


Wolf in Sheep's clothing

by Wassereis



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Somnophilia, Murder, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27739195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wassereis/pseuds/Wassereis
Summary: Canada is cold and Danny hasn't brought warm clothes.Ormond is boring and Frank just wants to be seen.They might collide.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Frank Morrison
Comments: 27
Kudos: 183





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is completely finished and will be updated every Friday. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this ♥ 
> 
> Huge thanks to my betas: 
> 
> Mel - https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragile/ (read her works!)
> 
> Pugge - https://twitter.com/Pugglers (look at her art!)

He's bored. So fucking bored with this bullshit.

Actually working for once is even more tedious than he anticipated and leaves almost no time for his _thing_ . 

He keeps walking slowly, almost dragging his feet. This normal boring shit doesn't interest him in the slightest. He hates pretending to be normal when he isn't in the mood.

Other people would consider themselves lucky to have such an enjoyable job but he fucking hates it.

All because of some noisy old fucks that just couldn't keep their eyes in their own yard.

Just a few weeks ago he had to move, again.

Leave all his promising projects behind, again.

They had come too close for comfort. He has to admit it made him nervous.

Enough so that he had to skip town, go to Canada (for now).

And now he has to actually work a job because he needs the money to pay his new shitty apartment that he is going back to right now.

He kicks an empty beer can from the curb onto the road and hopes that it slices someone's tires open, maybe causes an accident. His lips twitch as he imagines it.  _That would be fun._

It already dark out, the days getting shorter. People are spending more and more time inside, which isn't the best time for him to find somebody new.

He's again looking for that special someone. It doesn't take a lot for him to fall in love. One slight smile, one meaningful look can be enough.

But he also gets bored so so easily.

Then he has to make things more interesting; knowing their names, friends, their favorite food, and music and the layout of their apartment isn't enough anymore at some point. Then he wants to spice things up a little, make them scared.

First, he does little things.

Maybe he will just wash their favorite cup, make them wonder if they didn't use it that morning. Maybe leave a door open that they usually have closed.

Maybe some things go missing.

He loves seeing them get paranoid, jumpy.

Sometimes he calls, just breathes, or tells them how he enjoyed their smile when they were drinking coffee with their friend in that new place downtown earlier that day.

If he has the time he lets it go on for months, lets them think he isn't watching anymore, just to do something small when they are just starting to look relaxed again.

He comes to the small store on the corner and decides to go inside to buy something edible, so he doesn't have to eat cereal as dinner again.

Inside it's less cold, the icy wind left behind the glass-door.

Behind the counter is a middle-aged woman looking at her phone, playing some game. He eyes her critically.  _No, n_ _ot interested._

He walks over to the bread and picks up a bag and some bland-looking cheese from the side of the aisle.

There seems to be no one else in the whole store aside from him and the cashier and it makes his skin prickle a little. He hasn't done it so long that just imagining the blood spatter on the dirty tiles, warm blood running over his hands makes his pulse quicken and his dick twitch.

But he can't; doesn't even know when the next shift will come in; if someone's in the back unpacking.

Still, it's tempting.

He rounds another aisle, the store is pretty small, compared to the bigger chains in America. As he turns around the corner he sees that he assumed wrong.

A man is standing at the other end of the aisle, by the alcoholic beverages.

His eyes zero in on him, and he stops himself several feet away from the stranger; his legs just moving without his conscious input.

There's something about him that draws him in.

He is still staring, taking everything in.

The other man is a little shorter than him, but not by much. He's tattooed, at least on his hands and he wonders if he has any more. The rest is covered by a red varsity jacket, hood pulled up and black jeans that are ripped at the knees. His white sneakers are dirty with mud. He wishes he could see his face, his hair, and the color of his eyes.

His blood is rushing in his ears and his fingers are itching to just grab him and do  _something._

Still, the man isn't looking, so he takes a calming breath and thinks about his options.

He'll take the safe route here, stay nicely in the background, and see if he's the right one, just to be sure.

His mouth is salivating and his breath is quick and shallow already,  _it's him, it's him._

He has to follow, without him noticing, but he's good at that, very good.

The guy is tapping his foot, tilting his head in thought and finally grabs a carton of beer under his left arm and turns his back to him; walking towards the register. He follows him, making a quick mental note of which brand he chose.

He watches the way the still-stranger moves, confident, but taking his time looking at the shelves. Finally, he reaches the register and puts his beer on the counter. The woman is barely looking at him but takes a pack of cigarettes from the shelf behind her as if she knows him.

_Does he come here often?_

And Danny can't help but grin to himself as the stranger uses the inattention to take some gum and put it in his pocket nonchalantly. Little thief.

He pays his goods with a crumpled bill and stuffs the change and cigarettes in his pocket and leaves without looking back.

Danny puts his stuff on the counter and smiles his most apologetic smile.

'Mh sorry. Forgot my wallet.' He can see that there is no one in the back from this angle, but it doesn't even register as an opportunity as he rushes out to follow the stranger. He can just see him turn a corner a few houses over and takes hurried steps to follow him.

He slows down at a suitable distance and sees the man shake a pack of cigarettes with his right hand. It vanishes in front of him and he stuffs the pack back in his jacket to search for a lighter.

He seems to find one but as he tries to light it, it falls down and Danny can hear a long groaning  **fuck me** over the moderate distance. The gravelly voice sends a shiver down his spine that isn't from the cold. 

He snickers to himself as the guy bends down first, abandons the idea and turns a little, and squats down to awkwardly try to balance the beer while fishing for the lighter on the ground.  _Adorable._

He wants to walk over, pick it up, and light his cigarette for him, but it's nowhere near the time to make himself known at all.  _Patience._

Finally, the man stands up and lights his cigarette. He leans back and takes a deep drag in silent celebration. His hood falls from his head to reveal very short hair and Danny feels the phantom prickling under his nails of scratching over his scalp.

The guy keeps walking at a leisurely pace and Danny follows, sticking to the shadows, but the guy doesn't turn around, no sixth sense of being watched or followed at all. The confident ones never do.

They arrive at a run-down two-story house and the guy lets himself in after fumbling for his keys. Danny waits and watches the windows, just a few seconds more and he'll start the process of learning his routine. The lights of two windows on the second floor turn on and Danny smiles to himself. He's one step closer already.

The house is a little too big for one person and it certainly has seen better days. Maybe he has a roommate or something, possibly a girlfriend or a wife. Danny shudders at the thought.

He waits for a few minutes more, sees some more lights being turned on and off again and then just blue flickering light in the two windows just above the garage.

It seems like his baby is winding down for the day while watching TV. He wishes he knew what he was watching.

He walks back to the store making plans. He's a little too elated by finding his new someone to be annoyed that he can't watch him the whole day tomorrow, but he'll make it work. Worst case he'll just quit and rob someone for rent. Easy as pie.

He pays for his groceries, even buys a frozen pizza and a six-pack of the same beer his new man likes and walks home.

His apartment is old fashioned to say it nicely. In truth, it looks just bad. Almost no modern furniture and definitely no personal touch. He just moved in a month ago, but still, he hasn't changed anything to his personal taste.

He has two rooms and a bathroom. There's a bed, a couch that looks like it's straight from the 70s, and a table that matches the time period in design, paired with creaking chairs. A mix of living and dining room and a bedroom, nothing fancy.

The curtains are some yellow abomination and the wallpaper in both rooms is in a faded lavender flower pattern.

In short: it fucking sucks.

He's renting the small apartment from an older lady who can't get up the stairs anymore and is letting him stay for a cheap price if he helps her around the house once in a while.

At least he knows that she won't come and disturb him up here and he has some semblance of privacy. Also locking his “apartment door”, that someone built in in a hurry, helps.

Back in his old house, he had a room just for his special things. Especially the photos. He shivers, tempted to get them from their hiding place, but he holds back.

He wants to concentrate on his new man, not reminisce in the past. Those are for the bad and lonely days. When he needs to feel better.

Now he feels giddy with excitement already.

Danny is almost sure that  _he_ is the one and he can't wait to get a good look at his face. Have him look at him for the first time, see his apartment, look at his clothes, find his secrets. 

Call him, scare him.

Cut him open from neck to pelvis and look at his insides.  _Mh._

But he's getting ahead of himself.

He takes a deep breath and tries to relax, he has a long day ahead of him tomorrow.

Danny gets up early the next morning and calls his current boss at the magazine “Land & River” about fishing and hunting, to let him know that's out doing research today and not sending anything in.

As he was aimlessly going over the border a few weeks ago he had decided that it would be better to settle somewhere smaller for the time being, not attract bigger institutions of law enforcement and just lay low for a while.

In his case, that means just changing his MO a little so they won't know it's him, but he can still satisfy his urges, which are always gnawing at his insides like a wild animal.

He can count himself lucky that the stalking also somehow stimulates him and he doesn't absolutely have to kill to feel excited.

He is also able to still enjoy the normal things in life, like a nice meal or a good fuck, but the normal stuff is always somewhat dull compared to watching someone's life fade from their eyes.

Like it's shrouded in a gray veil that makes it less exciting.

Danny knew from an early age, growing up with just his father, that he was... different from the other children.

It wasn't even that his dad was abusive or anything to really blame it on. It was what it was since he can remember.

It's just that blood, fear and danger excite him. He just enjoys it, a little too much, probably.

He thinks about his own motivations while he takes a shower in his dust pink tiled bathroom, gets dressed and takes his car back to the store to get himself some coffee. It's still very early and an acne-riddled teenager is standing behind the register, looking at his phone.

Danny walks up to him and asks for a coffee, a splash of milk, no sugar, with a smile.

He cradles the hot cup in his hands as he waits in his car, a few houses down from the two-story house, for his baby to make an appearance.

Yesterday night he had googled the address and come up with Martha and Clive Andrews. Further research had provided a divorce certificate. Both were in their 50s and just from the way he walked and dressed Danny was pretty sure his guy wasn't that old.

Maybe it was their son, or the Andrews had long since moved out and no one ever updated the address.

He has been sitting there for only a few minutes as a bleary-eyed man stumbles out the front door. Probably around his 50s, although his whole shaggy appearance makes him look older, hungover too by the bloodshot eyes and red nose. The man gets into an old model Ford and drives off.

He scribbles the time in his little notebook. It's probably Mr. Andrews going to work.

Danny cranks the heater up a little and takes a sip of his truly disgusting coffee. He sees some movement in one of the windows of the house and checks his immediate surroundings with a quick glance to pick up his binoculars to get a better look at one of the front windows.

It's apparently the kitchen, he can see some appliances and a fridge from his shitty position. He takes a steadying breath because getting mad about the bad angle won't help.

He doesn't get a single look at the man for another 20 minutes.

Just one small window on the upper floor gets opened and steam escapes through the small opening into the cold autumn air. Must be the bathroom. Danny's breath hitches at the thought of him showering, watching him.

A few minutes later the front door opens and Danny holds his breath as he sees a young man step over the threshold. He's wearing the red jacket, the same jeans and sneakers. Just the hoodie has changed from gray to black.

This time he can clearly see his face though and the guy is simply beautiful. Not in a common way, his jaw a sharp angle, short brown hair, strong brows. He looks a little rough around the edges, something there that he can't identify from the distance, but it sends a thrill down his spine.

He can see the dark shadows under his eyes even from the distance, pretty similar to his own. Clearly not sleeping enough.

Danny regrets not being closer to study his face in detail, but now he could pick him from a crowd.

The guy pulls the door closed and searches through his pockets to light another cigarette. He leans against the door, his head tips back and he bares his throat as he looks at the cloudy sky.

Danny's fingers twitch against his thigh when he sees the tattoos go up all the way under his chin and he wants to close his hand around his throat, thump digging in under the guy's jaw, bruising the light spots of skin that aren't colored by ink; feeling him swallow under his hand.

He doesn't dare to close his eyes even briefly to collect himself. He can't chance to miss a single expression or tick the guy has.

Danny really wants to know his name. He seems to enjoy his cigarette even though he looks up the street with a sullen look, eyebrows furrowed.

Then he pushes off the surface he is leaning against and makes his way to the driveway to a beat-up truck.

Danny waits until he has pulled out of the driveway until he follows him, through the town center. While he follows him he thinks about his plan. He knows himself well enough that he will need to have an eye on him as well as the house for a few days to get the routine down. 

Most people do the same things every day with slight variations.

He mostly has to rein himself in, because he gets greedy in these situations. He has to stay levelheaded; has done this too many times flawlessly and that's when others get sloppy and get caught.

_It’s like changing a tire. The first time you’re careful. By the thirtieth time, you can’t remember where you left the lug wrench._

He chuckles and speeds up as the lights turn yellow.

Danny drums his fingers on the stirring wheel and slowly pulls into a parking lot, parks on the opposite parking spot so he isn't clearly visible to the now parked truck-owner.

Through his rearview mirror, he watches his baby watching the local high school entrance. The guy is staying seated, head turned towards the school, sometimes turning to watch down the street.

Danny wants to laugh, observing his new obsession partaking in one of his favorite activities, while being watched himself. Very ironic.

Watching a school isn't really Danny's jam, but he isn't pretending to be on moral high ground here. The shit he does is a lot worse than watching teenagers that are starting to make their way into school.

The truck door opens and the guy gets out, walks around and sits down on the hood of his truck.

Danny takes the last awful sip of his now cold coffee and gets out of his car, silently closing the door and walking over to a trash can to dispose of the empty paper cup.

The cold morning air and the harsh wind, that has picked up even more over night makes him shiver. He's not made for this environment. Danny pulls up the zipper of his leather jacket as far as it will go.

He really needs a scarf or something, the collar not covering his throat at all and his hands are already freezing.

The guy seems unfazed by the cold as he watches the street to the left intently. A group of teens is coming up, their gazes also fixed on him.

The guy hops down from his sitting position and waits for them until they all greet each other. It's his baby, a black guy and two girls, one of them with pink hair. The other girl with light brown hair is running and jumping up as they come up to the truck. Her legs close around his man's waist and he catches her, hands right on her ass, holding her up.

Danny hums to himself, tells himself that he is better in every possible way than a teenage girl.  _Not jealous._ The deep laugh of the guy appeases him and sends another shiver down his spine. 

He walks up to his car, his back to the group and opens his trunk and pretends to do something. Just pushing his duffle bag around a little, pulling the zipper. A flash of white buried in the black fabrics in the bag makes him smile while he listens in on the small group.

'Alright, Julie. Get the fuck off now.' The deep raspy voice that gives him goosebumps grumbles.

_Julie_ , the touchy one. 

She laughs, he hears a small commotion and she hisses a  _poutain_ that makes all of them laugh.

'Want me to kiss it better?' The deep voice leers.

'Fuck you, Frank. You asshole.' She raises her voice and Danny can hear her storming off over the gravel.

Danny smiles to himself, lets his fingers glide over the cold plastic of his mask.

_Frank._

He touches the plastic bag with the zip ties and the sturdy ropes on the bottom of his bag, just feeling the different surfaces, while Frank says goodbye to his band of teenagers. The other two follow Julie to the other side of the street, he can hear their voices fade.

He hears Frank's feet on the gravel, but he isn't getting in his truck. Danny has to let his fingers glide over the cold, smooth surface of his bowie knife. He is so deep in his thoughts that he actually cuts himself as someone clears their throat next to him.

This isn't exactly going to plan, but he got too greedy with being closer, now he has to adjust, no problem.

He quickly collects himself and lets his normal-human mask settle on his face, his body covering the opened bag before he turns to take his first close look at Frank's face.

It takes him a lot to not leer too obviously at him. His eyes are dark green, he has a scar above his left eye and one through his upper lip. He looks even rougher from up close, but there's a slight blush to his cheeks from the cold wind and slight stubble, he probably didn't shave this morning. It makes him look almost cute, in a weird way.

He's also half a head shorter than Danny so he has to tilt his head to look at him.

Danny wants to sink his teeth into him.

Frank stares up at him with calculating eyes. Danny slowly closes his bag without taking his eyes off Frank's face and through the intense eye contact preventing him to look either, then he lifts his bleeding finger. He sees Frank's eyes jump to his hand and the blood seeping from the cut, sees his eyes grow a little darker.

He brings his finger up to his lips and collects his blood on his tongue, the taste of iron making him smile.

Frank seems to have a hard time not looking at his blood-stained lower lip until he licks it off and his glance wanders up. Their eyes meet and Franks pupils are slightly dilated.

Danny closes the trunk, still looking at the other man.

'Yes?' Danny says and smiles saccharine sweet.

'Got a cigarette for me?' Frank doesn't take his eyes off of him, cold and calculating, his voice is a little rough though.

Saliva pools in Danny's mouth and he feels his body gets flooded with excitement he hasn't felt in a long time.

He knows a predator when he sees one.

Frank isn't as experienced as he is in pretending,  _younger_ , but he's definitely noticing that something is off the way he looks at Danny with a curious expression. 

To the average onlooker, Frank looks normal, rebellious; angry with a short fuse. Danny can see it in the clenched jaw, the angry look in his eyes. But there is something underneath that anger that only someone who can see it in the mirror will recognize.

They are not of the exactly same make, but Frank is wearing a mask just like Danny is. He just hasn't caught on that they are very much alike, but Danny loves games, so he'll happily play along until he catches him or until the perfect moment will reveal itself.

Danny opens his car again, a wave of warm air making him once again aware of the cold. He opens his glovebox and takes out a pack of Lucky Strike's, and after he straightens himself offers the pack to Frank.

Their fingers brush briefly and Franks skin is blessedly warm against his own. Frank shakes the box and pulls out a cigarette with his teeth and lights it, grinning brightly at him.

He holds out the box and lighter to Danny, who takes both and fumbles for a cigarette with numb fingers.

He lights it and takes a slow drag before giving the lighter back and throwing the cigarettes on the passenger seat. The door closes with a click and he leans against it.

'Thanks, bro.' Frank has his left hand stuffed in his jacket pocket and leans against his car as well.

They look at each other for a moment before Danny leans forward a fraction.

'What's your name?' He asks, despite knowing the answer.

'Fuck's it to you.' Frank sneers and Danny sighs, holding his hands up with raised eyebrows.

'Fine. I'm Frank.' He says through gritted teeth.

'I'm Jed.' He says and smiles, more genuinely and the corners of Frank's mouth actually move up a fraction at the honest smile. It seems like he can spot him not being genuine just fine, so as truthful as possible it is.

'What's an American doing in this shithole?' Frank watches him from the corner of his eyes.

'I'm here to write an article for the 'Land & River'' Danny feels cringy and undervalued by just saying that and he lets it show on his face. Frank snickers at his expression.

'The what?' He's laughing now, white teeth showing, body turning towards Danny.

'Hunting and fishing. Like here, in Canada for American tourists.' He waves his hand dismissively.

Frank nods in thought and scratches his chin.

'You don't look like a hunter to me.' Danny tries to make his grin not look at disturbing as he feels like it should be. Not hunting deer, but other prey.

'Mh, yeah. Not really.' He watches Frank take the last drag of his cigarette and crush it under his white sneaker. He fishes his phone out of his back pocket and looks at the time without unlocking it.

'Fuck. Gotta go.' Frank lifts a hand and starts walking to his truck.

'Thanks for the cigarette again, Jed. See ya.' And he climbs in his truck, the engine roars up and he speeds out the parking lot, nearly hitting another teenager who is trying to cross the road and has to jump back. Frank holds up his middle finger at the boy and shoots a grin at Danny before speeding off.

Danny drives back into the small town center and gets a decent coffee and a sandwich at a small coffee shop and asks about hunting and fishing spots in the area. Hunting season is over now, so luckily he won't have to sit in a forest all day to shoot some unsuspecting animal for research purposes.

Though ice fishing season will start soon, apparently. He already knows he'll have to take pictures of the whole thing, preferably with a beautiful background, snow-covered mountains, or some shit.

With the temperature dropping more every day it's going to be so fucking cold. Even now he can't wait to just drive to the apartment and take a scolding hot bath in his small bathtub.

He eats his sandwich while googling where some nice hunting cabins can be rented, where a hunting license for the season can be obtained, and so on. The wifi is shit though.

Since it's between seasons and he doesn't plan on interviewing hunters he'll just research some decent reviews and work with that. He just doesn't have the patience for redneck hunters and playing nice these days and his boss won't notice.

He even gets his laptop from his car and works on his notes for a while until the chatter between customers and the serving lady gets too much to ignore and he leaves with one last forced smile.

He walks over to the small souvenir shop that also seems to have a lot of the typical “attractions” flyers from the region.

There's a faded poster of the mountain and a ski lift “Mount Ormond resort” and one of the newer flyers indicates it's now a possible abandoned place to visit. Not really his thing.

There are the typical spring and summer festivals, autumn harvests and lots and lots of hunting information.

He takes one of each and goes to the front to have another chat with the owner, who starts telling him about his glory moose hunting days and even invites him to his home to take a look at his trophies.

The man goes on and on about rifles and pistols and trucks and other stuff Danny doesn't listen to.

Danny grinds his teeth and thinks about which trophy he would cut out of the guy for  _his_ collection.

'..and that rude boy Clive keeps around. Little asshole if you ask me. Harry doesn't listen to me though, keep saying he should fire him.'

'Where does he work again?' Gotta love small cities and a foul mouth.

'Down the street.' The man scoffs. 'Don't expect any service.'

Danny nods obediently and listens for a few more minutes before he interrupts as gently as he can with the paper-thin patience he has left for the conversation and leaves.

He gets back to his car and just drives past the 'Harry's essentials' to park further down the road. He quickly googles the store's phone number.

Overthinking it for maybe 3 seconds he dials the number. Just the sound of the dial tone makes his pulse quicken. He bites his tongue and tries to breathe normally, so he doesn't sound as breathless as he already is just from the anticipation.

This is a hundred times better than actually working.

'Harry's essentials. Outdoor supplies. How can I help you?' A terribly bored voice drawls.

Danny can't help himself, has to ask.

'Who is this?' He leans his head back against the headrest, still trying to slow his breathing.

'Uh.. this is Frank?' It sounds like a question.

'Oh hey, Frank.' His voice sounds creepy like he's going to ask what Frank is wearing or something, even in his own ears. It makes him bite his tongue to distract himself.

There's a moment of silence.

'What do you want asshole?' Frank obviously picked up on the inappropriate tone of voice.

Danny laughs and hears Frank huff on the other end.

He gets out of his car and takes a few steps to have a good view of the front of the store, taking deep breaths of cold air to calm himself.

'Ah, I'm sorry Frankie. I just wanted to know how long you're open is all.' He hears some shuffling on the other end.

Danny walks as far as the opposite side of the street and can see Frank sitting in a camping chair in a display of camping equipment; LED lantern, table, and a grill on a patch of cheap fake lawn. He isn't wearing his jacket right now.

'Don't you have a phone to google that or something?' Frank grumbles. Danny can see him stretch his legs.

'I have to say that's really poor customer service.' After a quick glance up and down the street, he crosses to stand just off the window to watch Frank even closer. He doesn't notice him, looking at his hand that is wrapped in a dirty bandage, smiling to himself. It's very endearing for a guy that looks as rough as Frank does.

'Just what I was told to expect from this place.' Danny continues and he sees Frank scowl, slightly curling in on himself.

'Fuck you.' He can almost hear how he grinds his teeth. 'We're open until six.' Danny can see how white Franks knuckles are, digging his nails into his bandaged palm. Angry.

'Thank you.' He says with a deeper voice that comes closer to what he normally sounds like, when he isn't playing Jed, to soothe him.

He can see Frank unfurling back into the chair gradually, his hand relaxing and a small smile on his lips.

'That person also gave you our number to test how nice I am to customers Jed?'

By now Frank is slouching in the chair, knees spread, feet apart.

Danny was wondering how long he would want to play charades. His accent too different to not be obvious immediately.

'Nah.' He smiles. 'I googled it.'

Frank laughs at that and it sounds even better so close to his ear than over the parking lot earlier. He also looks very attractive when he's laughing.

Frank sighs contently. 'Are you going to come by? Buy some waders?'

Danny watches him play with a loose thread on his sleeve for a moment. It sounds like Frank  _wants_ him to come by and it makes Danny's breath hitch, but he masks it well. 

'Ah no. Maybe the next few days when I find the time. Ask some questions for my article.' He closely watches Frank's eyebrows drawing together.

'No waders though.' He adds. Frank barks another short laugh.

'Alright, Jed.' He sits up a little straighter getting into character. 'I hope I could be of help to you today, Sir.' He can see the whites of Frank's eyes as he rolls his eyes.

'Yeah. Thank you, Frankie.' His voice just drops again without him thinking about it.

'Thank you for your call, Sir.' Frank hangs up and Danny sees him smile again as he sets the old fashioned looking phone down on a paper plate that is laid out on the plastic table and takes out his cellphone.

It warms him from the inside to see him smile like that, privately, after their interaction.

Danny turns and walks back to his car. He has enough time to go back to his apartment, take that hot bath to defrost his bones and be back before Frank's shift ends. But he knows himself. Once he's warmed up and has every heater running, soaking in the water it will be so hard to leave.

It's better to stay now and reward himself later. He also has to think about how he will change his plans now that he knows what Frank is.

A wolf in sheep's clothing.

Danny needs to know how dangerous Frank is, how far he has already gone. Not to underestimate Frank, but he feels like he is the bigger threat here.

He's already on his way to draw Frank in, make him his and he has so so much experience at manipulating already that it's second nature to him.

But Frank is versed in the same behavior, even if he goes for aggressive rather than the whole friendly-neighbor shtick Danny has been perfecting for 20 years.

He sits in his car and watches the store. He can't see inside from here, but he can see when Frank comes outside to smoke every hour. Two more and he will close up.

While he's waiting he puts on an oversized hoodie that's lying on the back seat to keep himself warm. It's helping a little bit, but when the lights in the store finally go out and Frank closes the store Danny feels like an icicle anyway.

He reluctantly moves his hands that are wedged between his thighs and the seat to the ignition and starts the car to follow Frank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, enjoy this juicy filth and fluffy goodness.
> 
> Love you ♥

He learns Frank's routine fairly quickly. Shower, meeting the teenagers before school, work (apart from Tuesday and Saturday to Sunday), visiting one of the teenagers or meeting up at Ormond Resort, eat something (mostly from cans), drink while watching TV until tired, go to sleep.

Ormond resort is half-rotten and moldy from the summer months. By now the freezing temperatures are halting the decay of the building, but it's still no nice place to hang out.

But Danny can understand it because the teenagers are all living with their parents, who aren't as big fans of Frank as he is. Clive is a grade-A asshole, mostly drunk and raging. If Frank spends time at the house it's upstairs while Clive lies on the couch passed out until he has to get back to work in the morning. He drinks two cans of beer before even leaving the house.

First Danny watches from outside, creeping closer and closer to the house. He learns that the grid that covers a window in the basement is loose, easy to get through and that the latch on the backdoor opens easily with a little wiggling. He perfects opening it after just four days.

He pays close attention to the part of the house where Frank lives. His room, his bathroom. The other rooms upstairs are dusty, the master bedroom unused and the adjoining bathroom has mold in the corners.

He builds up to finally go into Frank's room. It's a Thursday and Frank is at work. It's late afternoon because he has to time things right with the neighbor's nap time at four. He can't have another 'backyard watch' fuck it up again. But they are fast asleep, he checked through the window in the living room.

He holds his breath and slowly opens the door to Frank's room. He can feel the cold of the metal doorknob through his latex glove. It's very cold in the house. Not as cold as outside; it had started to snow a week ago, but he doesn't think the heater works at all up here.

The room also  _looks_ very cold. 

There's a bed with a mountain of blankets on it, another sign of the lacking heating in here.

A small couch with a coffee table and a small TV in the corner.

A desk that looks unused and a closet that is neatly organized.

Mostly blacks and grays, there are a few flannel shirts and a lot of band shirts.

Danny picks one shirt from the closet that he knows Frank wears to bed sometimes and switches it for the one he sees peeking out from one of the blankets.

He holds it up to his nose and smiles to himself, before setting it aside for when he leaves.

He'll take it with him and if he has to fight for it. It smells like Frank's body wash and sleep and Danny wants to roll in it. Maybe he'll jerk off with it pressed to his face, between his teeth; imagining he can taste his skin lingering.  _You could do that now._

He shakes his head to lose the thought and walks over to the nightstand. The surface is scratched and it looks old and used. It probably belonged to someone long before Frank got it.

He opens the drawer carefully, trying not to jostle the things inside.

Something off white is the first thing he sees as he slowly pulls on the small brass handle.

The more it opens the faster his heart beats.

It's a mask, not like his own, but more an off white, a little dirty with mud an d fingerprints .  It has a creepy smiley face drawn on it, crude, but probably giving the right effect to people.

There are streaks of rusty color on the edges and over the smiling mouth and a shiver runs down his spine.

He has seen it enough; running down the drain, deluding in the sink, drying beneath his fingernails, drying flakes in his hair. Its blood.

He carefully, very carefully lifts the mask and sets it on the scratched surface of the nightstand. Underneath he finds the next interesting thing; it's almost like Christmas.

A knife, not as beautifully gleaming as his, but with a mean-looking serrated back edge; no doubt just as effective. It probably won't cut like his own, clean cuts through tissue and muscle. Frank's looks like it tears and rips, Danny itches to see its effects.

He weighs it in his hand and finds it a little lighter than his own, but it's also a little smaller.

He smiles to himself as he sets the knife next to the mask, looking like a nice set, next to each other.

Then he rummages through the rest of the drawer. There are a few pill bottles and the labels show prescriptions filled for different people. There are some uppers and a few downers, but none of the really good stuff.

There are some coins, a few pens, a half-empty bottle of green apple flavored lube, and three condoms. He huffs a little and steps away from the nightstand to look around the rest of the room.

It's not very personal, just a few Polaroids of the teenagers (Julie, Susie and Joey - he knows their names now), a few flyers for concerts and some sketches for graffiti pieces.

A few school books are crammed into a small shelf, gathering dust. Nothing that indicates that he has been living here since he was a child.

Danny checks all possible hiding places but doesn't find anything.

He checks his phone and he still has some time left before Clive will arrive. Not that he would ever come up here to check on Frank or the state of the upper half of the house.

He looks around and walks to the small couch, which is probably the most used, next to the bed. There are a few empty beer cans on the coffee table, but not nearly as messy and disgusting as the downstairs living room. There's also still more than half of the beer in the cardboard box next to the couch that Frank bought two days ago.

Danny wrinkles his nose a little, but it probably stays cold enough at the current temperatures in the room to make drinking it enjoyable.

He sits down on the couch and stares at the black screen of the TV. He picks up the remote from the low wooden coffee table and turns it on. It's a news channel, right now reporting from a dairy farm. Good to fall asleep to, probably. The old TV flickers ominously as he turns it off again.

There's an empty ashtray on the table. By now Danny has seen Frank air out the room multiple times just before he goes to bed, while he's in the bathroom. Probably to not let the cigarette smoke stick to every surface.

It smells surprisingly clean in here. He moves his hand over the surface of the polished finish of the table, which is very clean.

For the rough and rebellious attitude, Frank is very clean. The bathroom was meticulous every time Danny had stepped inside as well.

He knows so much about Frank's life already. What he eats, what detergent he uses, how his body wash smells and that he doesn't like raisins. Usually, at this stage, Danny would feel like he knows everything or at least enough to start the second phase, but he knows he doesn't know the other half of Frank, the more enticing one.

Although he can't pretend that he doesn't love how very ordinarily hot Frank looks sleep-deprived in gray sweatpants while he eats dry cereal from the box he can't shake the thought of blood all over Franks clothes, bandages on his hands soaked crimson, green eyes manic behind the smiling mask.

His favorite fantasy so far is them killing together. Danny doesn't mind sharing really, it would be worth it. Sharing this with another person would be like the ultimate dream come true.

Absentmindedly he's pressing his hand against the growing bulge in his pants to the mental image of blood-stained teeth and blood slick fingers on his skin.

He snaps out of it at a spark of pleasure that runs down his spine.

As of late, this has been happening way too much.

With normal victims, this spacing out and fantasizing isn't as bad.

He usually takes something of theirs and does this in the privacy of his current home, not while he is sitting on their couch in their house that he just broke in.

Usually he also explicitly thinks about them begging and crying and the fear in their eyes. He needs that much to... get things going for himself.

Now it's more like he's 14 again and the smallest thing gets him turned on. Danny has no idea what's so special to him about Frank, just that he's in love and he kinda doesn't want to destroy it.

The thought of slicing Frank open and seeing those green eyes dull is still exciting but also makes him feel... slightly nauseous.  _Weird._

He rubs his still gloved palms over his thighs and takes a deep breath. He needs to get out of here very soon.

He gets to his feet, erection uncomfortably pressing against the fly of his pants.

Carefully he puts everything back to its place, closes the drawers and closet doors before he grabs the shirt Frank slept in, his prize, and sneaks back out, careful not to leave any footprints in the muddy snow.

He drives straight back home. Frank will be at work for another half hour or so, but Danny needs a bath and he needs to get off, preferably right away, but the car is really cold, as are his hands.

Even when he wasn't killing he has always been very sexually active. His feelings towards basically everything were very limited and dull, but he learned with his first sexual experience that it feels like more; feels  _good._ And he's a sucker for feeling good.

So yeah, Danny is a bit of a slut, plus sex can get him stuff that he wants.

And right now he can't remember when he had last come.

All days spend actually working, watching some potential victims (he still wants to kill  _someone_ ), watching Frankie and his friends, keeping in shape, and trying to fight his insomnia. He really hadn't had the time to indulge himself. 

He vaguely remembers getting hard multiple times while he was watching Frank; coming from the shower in just his sweatpants, through the open door in the master bedroom; snapping angrily at his teenage friends, just to smile cruelly when they weren't watching; pissing off customers with his annoying bratty attitude that makes Danny want to put him in his place.

He parks his car in the driveway of his house and gets out.

Just as he tries to make a quick way up to his rooms, still half hard in his pants and death grip on Frank's shirt, Mrs. Martin appears from the kitchen.

'Mr. Olsen.' She shuffles closer.

'Yes, Mrs. Martin?' Danny somehow manages to make his voice sound sweet and open.

'Could you be a dear and help me get those glasses from the cabinet?' He grits his teeth in a smile and nods, then follows her into the kitchen.

He takes out several mason jars from the top shelf, ones she would only be able to reach with a ladder.

Then she starts telling him about jam or potatoes or something. He breathes through his nose to calm down, close to snapping.

By now, in the presence of the old woman, his erection has flagged, which is a blessing for now, but his nerves are raw and he is still holding the precious shirt between his fingers.

He just  _needs_ some time for himself right now. 

_This wouldn't be a problem if she was dead._

If he just took one of the knives from the knife block and sliced her throat from ear to ear, arterial spray over the kitchen cabinets and the cutesy butter-yellow curtains he would probably come right in his pants as riled up as he is right now and the annoying yapping would be over.

He really needs to kill again, scratch that itch under his skin.

But then someone would eventually notice and his DNA is all over the house, people have seen him and it's the whole circus of packing his stuff and so on.

He would also have to leave Frankie behind or kill him really quick to get a fix out of it.

Danny frowns, he doesn't want that at all.

He puts his hands behind his back, to shield his prize from her eyes and smiles, all teeth.

'Alright, Mrs. Martin.' He slowly inches back. 'I had a really long day and I was really looking forward to a nice bath if you don't mind me leaving.'

She smiles back and waves him off.

'Of course not dear. Thank you again and go enjoy yourself.'

_Oh, I will._

He takes the steps two at a time and stops at the bathroom first to get the water going before he picks a pair of sweatpants from his bag.

He carefully puts Franks shirt on his bed, knows already what he will be doing in twenty minutes with it. Actually, he's getting hard again already, just thinking about it.

He goes back to the bathroom and strips efficiently. The tub isn't even half full, but he goes to sit in it anyway. The water is hot, just on the side of bearable, exactly the way he enjoys it. The skin of his thighs is turning pink already, relaxing his muscles and warming him after all day in the cold.

It makes his limbs feel loose and heavy.

Slowly the tub fills up and he turns the tab off. He can hear drops dripping into the water, but that is the only sound, besides his breathing.

His skin is starting to tingle from the heat and his hair is getting wet from the steam that fills the whole room by now. He really needs to cut it again, dark strands falling into his eyes.

Slowly he gets up, pulls the plug, towels off and puts on his sweatpants before he walks over to his bedroom.

He holds his breath before turning his eyes to the bed. Franks shirt is exactly in the same place he left it.

His pulse is going quicker already, just from the anticipation.

He picks it up, feels the fabric between his fingers. Then he walks up to the bed and sits down on the ugly quilt, leans against the massive wooden frame. It doesn't matter how ugly the room is, or how much it always smells like dried roses or something.

He brings the shirt up to his nose slowly and breathes in. He groans, saliva pools under his tongue. This is so good already and he hasn't even done anything yet. His dick twitches in his pants and finally, he indulges, palms himself through the thick soft fabric. It feels electric on his skin, too soft almost and he tightens his fingers to squeeze himself.

He's still taking in gulps of Franks scent like it's getting him high. By now he's so hard it hurts and he bucks up in his hand and shoves his pants down to his thighs in the next second, impatient as hell.

The moment is escalating quicker than he anticipated and he is panting, fingers twitching against his balls. He throws his head back with a painful thump, moan sounding like someone punched him.

He's too sensitive for this right now, body itching to just come, mind set on torturing himself, savoring this.

His loose fist pumps slowly, enough precum that he doesn't even need lube or anything. He bucks his hips without conscious input and bites his knuckles through the shirt. It tastes clean, like detergent, but also something there that tastes like skin and he wants to fuck Frank so much he can almost feel him. His skin is crawling, everything itching for more while he jerks himself off hard and fast.

Pictures of Frank with murder in his eyes, on his knees, tears in his eyes, still defiant as ever race through his mind in quick succession.

He feels delirious as he moves his head to the side, eyes spotting his phone on the nightstand.

He thinks for a moment and leans over to pick it up.

Franks shirt is lying over his chest and his dick twitches as a reminder that he's a pervert and his brain is more than alright with the idea. He unlocks the phone, a few minutes until Frank will be closing up. He searches his contacts for a few seconds and picks 'Harry's essentials'.

He gives himself a firm stroke, voice breaking while he groans.

He taps the icon to call and just presses it to his ear, listening.

'Oh. 'Harry's essentials' How can I help you?' The voice is a little distorted and Danny strokes himself feather-light.

'Who is this?' His voice sounds nothing like Jed and all like Danny, fucked out and raspy, deeper. Whoops.

'Uh, it's Frank.' Suddenly the line is a lot clearer and he can hear the intake of breath, he has to suppress a small groan at the confirmation that it's Frank on the other end. His hand tightens on the upstroke and he bites his tongue to keep quiet.

'Hey, Frankie.' He clears his throat, makes himself sound as normal as possible. 'What's up?'

His fingers tease an especially sensitive spot under the tip and he bites down harder, tastes iron as he rubs against it, twitching. He's too fucking close to coming already.

'Jed?' Frank's voice sounds questioning, although he still remembers his name, so he made an impression.

'Mhm.' He strokes himself a little too tight, feels himself tip over the edge, almost coming, precum running down over his fingers, just staving it off with a vice grip around the base.  _Fuck._

'Uh not much. Going to close in a few minutes.' He hears him walking around, not a clue that Danny is getting off on this, almost came just a second ago. Danny takes his hand off to scratch sharp fingernails over his thigh, burning red streaks on his skin.

'Didn't you want to come by or something?' Frank sounds between pouting and angry that Danny didn't show up and ghosted him for a few weeks.

'Yeah.' Danny's fingers tighten around his erection again, can't help himself, stroking hard and slow. 'Couldn't find the time.' Which is a total lie, he knows the place in and out by now, has spent countless hours watching Frank sit in the camping chair.

Frank hums, deep voice resonating in Danny's bones and he has to keep himself from coming again, knuckles white with his tight grip around himself.

'Are you there tomorrow?' He asks, voice like gravel. He takes his hand off, picks up the shirt, silently inhales Franks scent.

The whole situation is divine, pushing a lot of Danny's buttons. He looks at the shirt and his eyes dart to his dick.  _Do it._

He hears some metallic clanking and knows Frank is locking the back door of the store.

He can feel his breath come quicker as he slowly lowers the shirt, as the fabric brushes against his hot skin.

'I'll be here until 6. You actually going to come this time?' Danny just hums as his hips push up to get more contact with the stolen shirt.

'Not too busy?' Frank asks just as Danny wraps his hand around his aching erection again; fabric a thin barrier between his hand and his skin.

He can't stop himself this time, feeling too good to not make a noise.

'Oh fuck.' He groans, lips stretching into a grin. He can Franks sharp intake of breath.

In a split second he makes an impulsive decision and just keeps going, breath going fast, audible if Frankie listens for it.

After a well-measured, too long pause he speaks up again.

'Bumped into the table, sorry.' His voice sounds breathless, he's so close, slowing his hand to keep himself on the edge. 'I'll come by tomorrow, promise.' He smiles.

'Alright..' Frank has stopped moving around, probably straining his ears for the sounds Danny is making.

'See you then Frankie.' He can hear some protest on the other end as he takes the phone from his ear. 'Bye-bye.' He hangs up, tosses the phone to the side and ruts into his hand and the now damp shirt. He can't stop his hips from snapping up, the drag of the soft fabric feels good enough to make him shiver. His hand is a vice grip, stroking.

It takes maybe all of three more seconds and he feels himself coming, letting the feeling wash through himself this time, heat running through his veins. His hand jerking himself, he looks as the dark gray shirt turns black as he is coming hard, vision swimming, wet spot on the shirt becoming bigger.

His hand slows, then falls away and it's a fucking mess, he came so much. He'll have to get a new shirt from Frank. He turns it over, runs his fingers over the cum that the fabric hasn't absorbed and rubs it in.

Danny runs his fingers over the fishing lures, makes them clink together. He can feel Frank watching him like a hawk while he's standing next to another customer, not even pretending to listen to the poor guy.

Getting bored by listening to the old man talk Danny walks around the shop. They might not sell guns, but they sell bows and much more interesting things: knives.

He looks at the different shapes, even sees one that looks pretty similar to Franks. He runs a finger over the serrated edge, like shark teeth, catching on his skin.

Another knife catches his eye. Although most of them have their merit, this one has a handle that is wrapped tightly in black leather, prettier than the rest. Just the look of it would fit pretty well with his outfit.

He picks it up, tests its weight. It's very well balanced, the handle a little too small for his palm though. In a quick motion, he flicks it around so the blade is lying flat against his wrist and forearm.

When he hears the small bell from the door he puts the knife back and walks back to the register.

Frank is standing there, watching him saunter over. Danny smiles, doesn't put too much effort into his whole act, the endgame is to let the other know at some point after all. Deciding to not put on his overly chipper reporter persona Danny sits down in Frank's camping chair, finally allowing himself to really look at Frank as he walks over from behind the counter.

There a scowl on his face, an uncertainty, because he doesn't know what to make of the phone call and Danny's slightly rude behavior.

Otherwise, he looks delicious, as he always does in light faded jeans and a black hoodie. He's wearing a dark gray shirt underneath that Danny saw this morning through the kitchen window.

He wonders if Frank will call him out, ask him about the phone call.

The other stops in front of him, arms crossed and steps close enough so he can look down on him, trying to assert dominance.

Every interaction seems to be a fight with Frank, never making it easy. But he isn't really all that confrontational and Danny just looks at him with an open expression.

'I'm sorry Frankie.' He starts, trying to sound honest because he doesn't want his baby to be mad and he did break a promise.

'You're not really.' Frank's teeth are clenched, but he sits down in the other chair. It's hard to feel sorry when you don't feel remorse, but he tried.

Danny clicks his tongue and moves the chair so he can look at Frank a little better.

'I finished the stupid article so we can talk about anything but hunting or fishing.'

And he really did rush through the assignment. He'll probably do some changes still and keep it until his deadline hits. It's more professional when it looks like he worked on it all this time. He's still reporting to the office every day on his progress; they think he's halfway done.

'Why the fuck should I care?' Frank really is pissed about the whole ghosting thing.

'Aw. Don't be like that Frankie.' He leans closer, narrowed eyes staring into his. Danny digs through the pocket of his jacket and hands Frank a chocolate bar.

'I even brought you something.' He pouts a little for effect and he knows Frank likes them, steals them often enough from the corner store.

Frank grabs it with a huff and tears open the flimsy plastic. He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully.

'So now that you're done.. you're going to leave?'

Danny doesn't lean back into his own space, although that would be the 'normal' thing to do.

'Not yet. I'll stay for a while I think.' He hasn't killed anyone yet and he's been here for close to two months, almost a record.

But it also means that no one is suspecting him of anything.

Frank makes a face and swallows another bite before he answers.

'Nothing ever happens here. I would leave if I could.' His eyes become a little unfocused as he stares ahead without really seeing.

Danny indulges in a fantasy of them leaving, roaming the continent, killing together, for a minute, before he answers.

'I kind of enjoy it, nice and quiet.' And it's true, he doesn't have to constantly look over his shoulder; there's a lot less surveillance in Canada than there is in America and it makes the whole stalking a lot easier. But it's not really relaxing yet, because the urge to draw blood, to maim and kill is getting worse every day.

He'll have to act on it soon or he'll get too hungry for it, make a stupid mistake.

'Just give it a few more weeks and you'll change your mind.' Frank's voice sounds bitter. Danny wants to reach over, soothe with fingertips over the tense jaw.

'Mh maybe. We'll see.' He idly plays with the plastic cup on the picnic table. 'Why don't you just leave then?'

Again, Frank curls a little into himself, fingers clenching into his palms; defensive.

'None of your business, asshole.' If he wasn't fully tuned into Frank's body language and tone of voice he would have only picked up on aggression, but there's sadness underneath.

'It's fine if you don't want to talk about it.' Danny shrugs casually and rests his chin on his hand.

Angry eyes turn to him, jaw still set in a tense line. It's hard to talk to the other if he takes everything as an attack. He sighs deeply and looks into Frank's eyes, who stares back and it sends a shiver down his spine at what he sees there. So similar to his own reflection.

'Listen Frank.' And he has all his attention on him.

'I know you're just trying to protect yourself by being this aggressive.' He can see the fury in Frank's face, just short of baring his teeth like a cornered animal by being called out. Anticipation of the worst kind makes his skin prickle, ready to fight if necessary. Without really thinking Danny lifts his hand slowly, enough for Frank to register that he's not trying to do anything bad to him, and cups his cheek.

Frank makes a weird sort of noise, confused like he's not sure how he should react. Danny lets his thumb caress over the rough stubble and just stares at him.

'What the fuck are you doing?' Frank's voice isn't pure fight anymore, barely above a rough whisper and Danny can feel him leaning into his hand, probably subconsciously. His fingers caress over his temple, along the hairline.

'Just giving you what you need, Frankie.' He slowly withdraws his hand, Frank's body follows by leaning forward for a second before he leans back and looks at him with furrowed brows.

'I don't..' Frank closes his eyes and unclenches his hands, whole aggressive stance melting in defeat. He heaves a deep sigh and slowly opens his eyes to look at Danny.

The way his upper body is pitched forward, intently looking at him, Danny feels like he managed to uncover another part of him. It seems obvious to him now that Frank is fucking lonely, starved for attention and affection. Chasing his hand as if no one touched him in years.

The cold home, fucking Clive, his attention-seeking behavior, even if it's negative attention. That he found a group of kids younger than him, that will give him all their attention, listen to his every word.

The neglect makes Danny clench his teeth in anger, the care that Frank never received; he can relate to that. Yes, he had a father, but no dad or mom.

His mother had left, partially due to Danny's weird behavior and probably because even back then his father used to cheat on her constantly. He barely remembers her.

As far as he can think back his father had completely ignored his existence, leaving him to his own devices, and maybe, just maybe if he had gotten a little more attention and care, he wouldn't have turned out like this. Not this bad.

And the image of Frank being ignored, cast into a dark corner, fighting over the smallest scraps, crying until his voice was raw and no one to soothe him doesn't make him feel pity, it makes him furious. He closes his eyes and counts to ten to contain the rage.

He sighs deeply and leans back in the chair, cheap metal creaking as he spreads his thighs and rubs his face.

As he looks at the other, Frank looks at him like he's studying him, trying to figure him out.

He hums in question and Frank's mask doesn't slip, not really, but the fact that he still looks at him like he's watching an interesting animal at the zoo and doesn't fade into something like a smile or anything socially acceptable shows that there is something in him that doesn't behave normally.

He just keeps staring at Danny for a few long seconds before he seems to catch that Danny is staring back unblinking and he adverts his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips.

At least they seem to have come to some sort of truce and Frank relaxes back into his chair and eats the rest of his chocolate bar in silence.

When he is finished, he just tosses the wrapper onto the table and gets up from his chair.

He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and walks over to the backdoor. He turns around to look at Danny.

'You coming or what?' And he vanishes behind a shelf further towards the exit into the back alley.

Danny isn't sure if this some kind of newly formed friendship as he follows and instantly gets hit by biting cold air. Next to him he hears his new favorite laugh at the face he makes.

'Don't know how I'm going to survive these temperatures.' He grumbles as leans next to Frank against the ice-cold bricks, rubbing his hands together.

Frank already has a cigarette between his teeth but it's not burning yet. His white teeth flash in a downright inappropriate grin as he looks Danny up and down.

'Let's swap.' Just now Danny notices the varsity jacket in Frank's hand and he eyes it skeptically.

'Trust me, it's warmer than yours.' He makes an impatient gesture with his other hand for him to take off his leather jacket.

Danny shrugs the jacket off and takes Frank's from a very warm hand, Danny's are half frozen again already.

As he puts on the jacket he feels kind of giddy, like a high school girl getting her boyfriend's jacket at prom or something.

It smells like Frank and cigarettes, very comforting; it's turning him on just a little bit.

Frank is putting on his jacket and something possessive inside of him purrs at the sight of him in his clothes. Surprisingly the other's jacket fit them both rather well and Frank was right, Danny is feeling warmer already.

He puts his hands in the jacket pockets, searches for the packet pulls it out.

Frank takes it from him and lights the cigarette between his teeth, takes it between thumb and forefinger, flips it and holds it so the filter and his fingers brush against Danny's lips.

Danny can't help but smile at the obvious flirting as Frank's finger traces his lower lip for a second and leans back, cherry burning as he breathes in.

Frank smiles to himself and lights a cigarette for himself, leans back against the wall again and looks at him with half-lidded eyes. Danny has to give it to him, it was a very smooth move, he's good. _Charming._

'So where do you live?' Frank asks and Danny turns toward him.

'That's very forward Frank.' He just grins and shrugs and Danny tells him the street he lives on.

Strong brows raise because it's really not that far from Clive's run-down house.

They probably would have run into each other at the store at some point sooner or later. It was just luck that Danny spotted him first.

Frank fishes his phone from his back pocket to check the time.

'I'm closing in half an hour.' Danny nods and pulls the sleeve of the jacket further over his exposed hand.

'What are you even doing, in your free time?' It's not an easy question.

He stalks people until he knows everything about them and then he breaks into their houses, freaks them out until he thinks they just might die from shock and then he kills them to leave a horrific scene.

It's a hobby.

'Photography, reading, movies.' He pulls the zipper of the jacket up, it's really nice and warm.

'What kind of movies?' Danny's not surprised this seems to be a shared interest.

'Horror, mostly.' Frank's eyes light up.

'Yeah? Me too.' He crushes the burning ember under his sneaker and puts his hands in the pockets of Danny's leather jacket. He makes a quick mental check about his pockets and what Frank could find. Nothing important.

'What's your favorite?' Frank seems to think about it for a minute, brows furrowed.

'I think I'd have to go with Black Christmas.' Danny grins and lifts his eyebrows. A man after his own heart.

'Aren't you a little young for that or..' He makes a shocked face. 'are you talking about the remake?'

'Never.' Frank scoffs and pretends to gag. 'The original obviously. And I'm 21.'

'That's cute.' Frank scowls. Danny allows himself a sultry grin that shows just how he feels.

'You're a pervert.' The scowl remains but is betrayed by the twitching lips and the barely noticeable blush on Frank's cheeks.

'Maybe.' Danny laughs and pushes off the wall. 'I gotta go. I still have some errands to run.'

Danny says his goodbyes after that and quickly accepts that Frank tells him to keep the jacket for now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot longer than I remembered, but it's important not to cut things off at the important scenes, mh?
> 
> This will get bloody. 
> 
> Enjoy ♥

He goes to buy groceries and in the bigger store in town and gets some Chinese take-out.

At home his 'new jacket' gets praise from Mrs. Martin and he changes into black clothes and leaves the warm red jacket behind with regret.

He leaves to stalk a middle-aged woman that lives in a trailer, just outside his neighborhood. She tends to gossip about the girls living there and is very rude on occasion, even though they have to feed their families somehow.

Danny doesn't really care for sex workers, although they make easy prey. But he  _hates_ people that get into other people's business.

Mary-Ann complains about their outfits, about their kids, the noise, the smells. She's just plain annoying and that's already more than enough reason to do everyone the favor and kill her.

As he arrives at the trailer park the last girls are leaving to go to work and others are just turning in, he doesn't have to try hard not to be seen.

In places like this people don't pry, they don't look and strangers are being purposefully ignored.

Mary-Ann is on the phone as he arrives, sitting in the kitchen. The window is opened a tad and he stands beside it, staying in the shadows and listens.

She is talking to her daughter, Brittany, who is expecting her second child in a few weeks.

It's heartwarming and all that, but they tend to stay on the phone for a long time at night and it's boring. Danny walks a few feet to another window, puts on a pair of gloves, opens it, and pulls himself up silently.

He's standing in her tidy bedroom, better decorated than his current situation. And it smells better too, like jasmine or something.

He can still hear Mary-Ann's muffled voice as he inspects the family photos on her dresser again. Her daughter and son, her first grandchild in her lap, a wedding picture are all arranged perfectly.

It's all almost picture perfect and he wonders what mistake she made in the past not to live in the nice house she seems to fit in but in this cheap trailer.

He opens the jewelry box next to the photos and picks up the old wedding ring, thinks about taking it, but puts it back into the box.

He walks over to the door that leads to the small hallway and opens it slowly. The woman's voice gets a little louder as he steps into the hallway just feet away from an unsuspecting Mary-Ann.

She is so engrossed with her phone call that she doesn't notice him standing in the dark hallway watching her openly.

He always plays with fire when he does things like this, but it's also what makes his blood run hot through his veins. The thrill is like nothing else, so close to them and they don't even see it coming.

Once he had managed to stand just inches behind one of his victims and they hadn't noticed while he had watched his own reflection in front of them in the window. That had been  _exhilarating_ . He still thinks about it often.

He watches her for a little while longer and after a few minutes she hangs up with a 'Love you honey.' and gets up to put her empty cup in the sink.

As she turns around he steps back into the shadows and she walks just past him, so close he could touch her. He holds his breath and she doesn't notice him as the bathroom lights illuminate him perfectly behind her, basically breathing down her neck.

She closes the door without looking back and he walks into the kitchen, takes the cup out of the sink and places it back on the small table, but on the side she never sits at.

She'll notice in the morning.

Mary-Ann always locks the front door from the inside so he climbs out the living room window and shuts it behind him to make his way back home.

He watches a rerun of “Mantracker” and cracks open a cold beer from the displaced looking fridge in the middle of his living room. He's half lying on the soft carpet, his feet wrapped in woolen socks that Mrs. Martin knitted for him and his back against the couch.

He considers eating some of the now cold food but opts for lying around. It's so nice and cozy with the heater and his sweatpants and warm socks that he doesn't want to move.

It's around 2 am and he can't sleep, just a typical night. So he watches bad TV and sips on a beer. He needs to eat and he needs to sleep; if only his body would get the message that it will slowly perish and cease to exist if he doesn't; that would be great.

At least he's warm and cozy after another hot bath and in soft clothes. He should really buy a microwave so he can heat things up, although he's almost used to cold meals by now.

His musings get interrupted by a soft chime and he lifts his phone to squint at the bright display. He has a text from an unknown number.

'You up?' As hard as he tries to, he can't figure out who would have his number and also text him in the middle of the night. He doesn't have any friends really. He has no family.

A few people have his business card with his number on it, but it's still a weird text at a weird hour. Someone has to have the wrong number.

'Yes.. who is this?' He types and sends. He waits for a few minutes, staring at the screen, but nothing comes back so he puts it to the side and focuses back on mantracker still talking about twigs.

Just as he's about to enter that headspace that's almost like sleep, his phone actually rings.

He lifts it back up and the display shows the same unknown number as the text.

Begrudgingly he accepts the call and feels strange, now that's he's the one that doesn't know who is calling or why.

'Yes?' His tone is sharp, he doesn't like uncertainty.

'Jed?' He hears a deep voice that he recognizes immediately.

'Frank. It's late.' He frowns to himself. 'What's going on?' He can hear Frank breathe heavily on the other end.

'I need your help with something.' He feels flattered but knows that it's his warped perception and that normally this is a lot to ask of someone you barely know at 2:14 in the morning.

'With what?' It's definitely unusual, if not completely weird.

'With..' He can hear a grunt and an annoyed huff. 'You'll see when you come here. Just hurry up.'

Frank gives him an address and tells him to take his car.

'Fine. See you in 10.' Danny is intrigued, otherwise, he wouldn't leave for anything just now. Luckily he only had two beers so he can still drive without getting into trouble.

He doesn't bother changing, just throws on his oversized hoodie and Frank's jacket. He pulls the hood up, leaves the house and jogs over to his sedan.

He puts his phone on his thigh to navigate to the address. It's just on the edge of the wealthier neighborhood, but residential. The houses are still moderate, but all with nice front yards that are covered in snow.

He stops in front of a house when he reaches his destination. The windows in the house are dark and there is no sign of life anywhere. Danny grits his teeth, but can't see anything unusual outside. One hand reaches under his seat and he shoves a hidden folding knife in his pocket before he gets out of the car.

There is more noise than he anticipated. Instead of dead silence, there is loud music somewhere up the street, he can't hear anything besides that. Even though his eyes are now used to the darkness he can't see Frank anywhere.

After he is sure that he's not in immediate danger to get jumped, he calls the number Frank called from. He can hear it ringing from beside the house, close to a car that's parked next to it.

He slowly walks up and feels a little relieved when he hears Frank swear under his breath.

'Frank?' He calls out softly.

'Yeah over here.' He can hear him from beside the car. Danny walks up and can make out two people in the even darker shadow next to the car. One of them is definitely Frank.

He looks them over, can only see that Frank is squatting next to a person that isn't moving.

Danny leans down and sees that Frank's face is just starting to bruise in several places. There is half-dried blood under his nose and his lip is split.

'What's going on?' Eyes darting around for the perpetrator, seeing nothing.

'Something's wrong with Susie.' Frank gestures to the girl slumped over on the cold ground.

'They gave her something.' He slowly gets up, hand pressing into his side. 'I might have gotten into a little fight to get her out of there.' He gestures up the street with his left hand, where the music is coming from.

'Alright.' Danny squats down next to Susie and tips her head up, her eyes are closed and her breathing is a little too fast, but nothing really bad. He sighs and loops one arm around her back, the other under her legs and gets up carefully.

Luckily she weighs practically nothing and he walks towards his car. Frank is following slowly and opens the back door.

With some maneuvering, Danny gets her to lie on the backseat and she stirs a little but is really too out of it to react properly.

Frank gets in the passenger seat before Danny even closes the door at Susie's feet.

Once he takes his seat, he takes a closer look at Frank in the dim light of the car. His face is pretty beat up, but no worse than what he already saw in the dark.

What concerns him is the bloodstain on Frank's shirt under the hand that is pressed against a wound.

'Did you get shot?' Danny asks dryly as he looks back at Frank's face.

'Nah. Stabbed.' Frank grins, his lip splits open again and he hisses as he licks over the blood. Danny has to turn away before he leans over and has a taste.

Frank turns around in his seat and looks at Susie that is lying on the backseat, knocked out.

'Let's get her home.' 

Danny starts the car and Frank gives him directions as they drive past the party and deeper into the neighborhood. They stop at a house that is painted in a light color and has a garage for at least two cars.

'We need to get her inside. She's going to be fine on her own right?' He looks a little concerned actually.

'Yeah.' Danny looks at the still form for a moment, considering. 'It's probably roofies. She'll feel like shit tomorrow, but she'll be fine.'

Frank nods and makes a move to get out of the car, but Danny presses him back into the seat without much force.

'Just tell me where I should put her and you wait here.' He sends a critical look at the wet spot on the shirt, which luckily isn't growing by much.

'Up the stairs, first room on the left. There's a key under the flower pot.' Frank points to the front door. 'And be quiet.'

Danny sighs and nods. He didn't plan on breaking into two homes today, but what's one more.

He turns the heater up a notch, so Frank won't get into hypothermia in his state, and then he gets out of the car.

After another round of pulling on Susie's legs until he can heave her up and starts his walk towards the house with her in his arms, bridal style. Usually, he just throws them over his shoulder, but Susie isn't dead and he doesn't want her throwing up on him or something when she's upside down.

Also: Frank is watching, he has to show a little respect.

He sits her down for a second to get the key and unlock the door, then quietly carries her up the stairs into a room that looks almost exactly like his highschool girlfriend's room back in the day.

He lays the girl down on the purple comforter and considers tucking her in for an odd second, but the room is warm enough and he's not her mom.

On his way back to the stairs he can hear a man snoring loudly and feels lucky to be as proficient at being quiet as he is. Her parents are actually asleep in the next room. He locks the front door behind him and puts the key back under the pot.

In the car, Frank is laying back against the seat with his eyes closed and listening to some music that Danny has never heard before. As he glances at the radio he realizes that Frank has put in an actual cassette tape.

'Very retro.' He comments as he puts the car into drive again.

'Shut up and drive me home.' Frank grunts through clenched teeth. His brows are furrowed and there is a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He's clearly in pain.

'You don't want to go to the hospital?' Danny waits at a stop sign to get an answer.

'It's not that bad.' Frank takes a deep breath. 'And I don't want the questions.'

Danny hums and looks Frank over once more. He pries the hand from his side and carefully lifts the shirt with Frank scowling straight ahead through the windshield.

The wound isn't deadly and bleeding only sluggishly.  The cut is just above an intricate design of a crouched tiger tattoo and doesn't cut through it by an inch or two.  It's longer than it's deep, but it needs to be patched up. 

'Well..you'll need stitches.' Danny concludes and lowers the shirt back down.

'I'm not going to the hospital.' Frank glares at him.

'Fine. I can stitch you up.' He offers. 'Won't be as pretty, but I'll do my best.'

Frank groans and closes his eyes again. Danny doesn't wait for an answer and starts driving towards his apartment.

'Do you even know how to? Have you ever done this before?' The song changes to something that absolutely doesn't fit the situation.

'Yeah. Trust me.' Danny has stitched himself up multiple times.

You can't go to the hospital with defensive knife wounds. There are times when even he can't predict how some things will play out or if _Kathrine_ will r u n to the kitchen and fight him with a knife. 

His work isn't that of a surgeon, but it gets the job done.

He keeps lies on hand about getting jumped for the serious cases where he might not be able to help himself anymore.

It has never come to that and hopefully never will. The fewer entries there are about him in official records of the su spicious kind, the better. 

He parks the car and gets out while Frank takes a few deep breaths to prepare himself to walk into the house. Danny opens the passenger door, leans with one arm on the roof and peers down at Frank.

'Can you walk?' He holds out a hand to help Frank get up.

'Of course, I'm not invalid.' Frank groans as he takes the offered hand and Danny pulls him up.

'Fuck that shit hurts.' Frank waits for a moment and then walks toward the house.

Danny locks the car quickly and opens the front door for Frank with his keys.

'Be quiet.' He murmurs and leads Frank to the staircase to let him go first, in case he loses his balance.

They climb the stairs slowly, but without making too much noise.

Frank opens the apartment door and steps inside and Danny follows. As the door behind them closes he toes his shoes off and helps Frank take his off because he clearly can't lean down.

He leads him to the living room where the half-empty can of beer is still standing on the floor where Danny was sitting earlier.

Frank sits down and really looks at Danny for the first time that night and he does the same.

Frank's face is starting to turn blue and purple on his left cheekbone, his lip has closed up again, but there's dried blood smeared all over his face from his nose and lip.

He can only imagine what Frank sees: gray sweatpants, colorful knitted socks, the huge hoodie and the varsity jacket.

In fact, they are both wearing the other's jacket, because Frank is still clad in the black leather.

Danny takes off the jacket and then the hoodie without much preamble and throws them over one of the chairs at the table.

'Let's get this party started, hm?' And he walks into the bathroom to get his medical supplies and some painkillers. He runs a hand through his messy hair as he sees himself in the mirror. The shadows under his eyes are darker than usual with the lack of sleep in recent days.

He takes a small towel from the cupboard and wets it under the tap.

As he comes back into the living room Frank has taken off his jacket and shirt, which is now balled up against the wound so he doesn't bleed on the furniture. He is also drinking the lukewarm half-empty can of beer Danny had left earlier.

He ignores it and sits down next to the couch, peels away the shirt and prods at the wound carefully. Frank takes a sharp intake of breath and is silent after that.

Danny cleans around the wound with the washcloth and then soaks a piece of gauze with disinfectant.

He slyly looks up to see Franks reaction as he cleans the wound, his face contorts and the jaw tenses. Pretty as ever.

He uses six stitches to close the wound, cleans it again before he covers it with a plaster.

He sits up on his knees and gently cups Frank's face, his eyes are closed and he's breathing heavily.

'You okay?' He asks quietly. As Frank looks at him with teary eyes he can't help but feel fondness for the beauty of it.

'I'm alright.' He crooks and sits up to take the last swig of the beer. Danny takes it from his limp hand and sets it next to him on the floor.

He gently cleans Frank's face, who keeps his eyes obediently closed. It's hard not to enjoy touch him like this, pressing a little too hard on the purple discoloration over his cheekbones to make his breath stutter for s second.

Danny gets up and takes two cans out of the fridge, hands one to Frank and sits down next to the couch.

'Thank you.' Frank says quietly after a few moments of silence and Danny smiles to himself.

'Of course.' He cracks open the beer and looks up at Frank who's still lying down.

He holds out his hand with two pills in it to Frank who takes and inspects them.

'Vicodin?' He questions and Danny smiles, someone knows his drugs.

'Dicodid. Same thing though.' Frank nods and washes them down with a swig of beer.

After getting up again to throw the bloody towel in the sink and putting away his medical supplies he rejoins Frank in the living room. After handing Frank an icepack from the fridge he takes his seat in front of the couch that Frank is still sprawled on.

'So what happened?' He tilts his head so he can look at Frank, who sighs and presses the icepack against the side of his face.

'I didn't even know that Susie was going to the party. I get a call and she sounds super fucked up, like wasted.' He makes a face at that, eyebrows drawn together.

'She never drinks that much. So I went there right away, luckily I was close by.' His face contorts in anger as he continues. 'When I arrived it was a snobs house. I mean you saw it. All the rich kids live there.' He takes a drink with his left hand. 'I searched the house for her. She was up there with two guys, totally out of it. Like you saw her. On the bed, they had her almost naked already. One guy already had his dick out.'

Danny can't help but make a face. He had forgotten how messy teenagers could be. To drug someone just to tell your friends you got laid, pathetic.

'The rest is obvious.' The rest isn't very obvious to Danny. Usually if caught like that they don't attack you with a knife and Frank is clearly leaving out some important details here.

Also: what was he doing “close by” in the middle of the night?

'Is it?' He asks dryly. Frank just shrugs and stays silent with a small cheeky grin.

They stay silent for a little while before something else comes to Danny's mind.

'How did you get my number?' As far as he remembers the phone in Harry's shop is so old that it doesn't display numbers that call.

Frank lifts his hips and pulls a small paper out of his back pocket. It's Danny's business card. He recognizes the dark blue font he chose carefully immediately.

'It was in your jacket.' He puts the card back in his front pocket this time.

'Huh.' Danny smiles. 'Now you have my number.' He pats his pockets but remembers his phone is still in the jacket. He walks over to the chair where the jacket is hanging over the back and takes it.

'Did you call me from your phone?' He asks and looks over at Frank who's eyes are drooping.

'Yeah is my number.' He mumbles, clearly, the pain killers are kicking in.

Danny saves the number under a new contact and takes the plastic bag with the take out over to the couch.

'Common you need to eat something before you pass out.' He nudges against Frank's calf. With a grunt, Frank sits up and makes some space for Danny who hands him a box and a fork.

Danny picks at the food and eats a few spring rolls while Frank stuffs his mouth with rice and vegetables, eating like a starved man.

When Frank decides he is done, he stretches out again and stuffs his feet under Danny's thigh. He's clearly drowsy and high. His head lolls back and he mumbles something.

Setting the half-eaten box aside Danny runs a hand up his shin to his knee and back down his calf to his ankle.

Frank isn't complaining yet and probably won't remember this tomorrow so he runs a thump under the pant leg, high enough to touch his skin. He pushes down the sock a little to touch more with his other fingers.

Touching him like this feels so good because it's so wrong to take advantage of the situation like he's doing now. Frank's eyes are closed and his breathing is slowing down. Danny greedily looks at his still exposed chest and arms, catalogs all the tattoos and scars, but he's holding back with the touching.

After a few minutes, Danny is sure that Frank has truly fallen asleep with the help of the drugs and alcohol combination.

He looks content despite his bruised face. With his face relaxed like that he looks almost innocent, his features soften from the usual angry expression.

His fingers are still drawing patterns into Franks skin mindlessly. Doing this, staring and touching, is doing nothing for his restraint.

He wants to push up, lean over him, come all over Frank's bruised up face. Milky white and dark purple, he sighs, fingers caressing Frank's ankle.

He gently withdraws his fingers from Frank's skin and stands next to the couch, looks down at the sleeping form.

After a moment of thinking of an excuse in the morning, he picks Frank up as he did Susie just hours earlier and carries him over to his bedroom. He can't have Frank snoop around in case he wakes up and he can be a lot closer like this.

He lays Frank down on the side he usually sleeps on, furthest from the door. He pulls the covers over Frank, who doesn't even stir at being carried and jostled around.

The blanket is cold as he slips under it and he shuffles over to cuddle up next to Frank, indulging himself by running fingertips up his side. A tattoo of a spider on his lower ribs seems to have scarred and the skin feels raised.

Frank's body feels like a much-needed source of warmth in his bed that was missing from the beginning. Against all odds, his eyelids begin to drop and he feels sleep muddling his thoughts.

He wakes slowly in blissful warmth and a small sliver of sun on the covers. He slept, without turning for hours and that with another person in the room.

It's actually the first time since he was probably 3 years old that he slept in a room with another person present. Usually, he doesn't feel safe and never exposes himself like that.

To be fair Frank had been sedated heavily and probably wouldn't have woken up if the house was on fire, but still. It's more than unusual for him to relax around anyone that he's able to fall asleep.

Frank is still fast asleep next to him with his back pressed against Danny's front. His arms are wrapped around Frank possessively, holding him close.

It's nice like that, so close together and it's that feeling where everything is perfect. He's not too cold or hot, he finally got some sleep and Frank is pressing against him, searching for contact even in his sleep.

He presses his face against Frank's neck, inhales and barely holds back the overwhelming urge to bite at the soft unmarked skin.

His hands wander from Frank's stomach to his hips, thumps brushing over the dimples next to his spine. Just the position of his hands holding him like that turns him on too much to keep this groping going without doing something dangerous.

This time Frank would wake up for sure and he doesn't want that scenario. Danny clenches his jaw so he doesn't make a sound and allows himself to grind against Frank's ass just once. It sends sparks up his spine and the broken groan gets stuck behind his teeth.

The movement feels like heaven and stopping feels like punishment, but he untangles himself from Frank before he allows himself any more lenience.

Danny gets up and stretches before he goes to the bathroom to clean up the dirty towel. He has to think about his father for a solid two minutes before his erection goes down so he can finally take a piss.

He cleans up the living room and opens the window for a few minutes, then he checks his phone and searches the pockets of his leather jacket for Frank's phone. He can't unlock it, but he takes mental note of several missed calls and a frantic text message from Susie. Nothing from Clive; no surprise there.

The battery is very low as well so he plugs it into his charger and goes downstairs to get some coffee from Mrs. Martin's kitchen.

When he comes back up the stairs with two huge mugs Frank is coming out of the bedroom with sleepy eyes. His face looks worse now, the bruises have grown over night, but the swelling isn't that bad.

'Mh morning.' Frank's voice is rough and scratchy from sleep and he's still shirtless.

'Hey.' Danny smiles, a different kind of hunger stirs in his stomach. He motions with his head to the living room that has warmed up nicely already. He sets the mugs on the table and gets a jug of milk from the fridge.

Frank is slowly walking up to the table, gingerly sits down on one of the chairs and stares at his coffee in a purple cup.

Danny adds milk to his coffee and looks over at Frank who's still staring into the air.

'You need sugar?' He asks and Frank's eyes turn on him slowly. Obviously, he's useless in the morning, but he nods. In the cupboard, Danny finds an ugly little sugar bowl and a teaspoon. He sets both next to Frank's cup and sits down next to him.

Frank seems to get more alert with the promise of caffeine and starts heaping sugar into his steaming drink. After the first few sips, he seems to return to the here and now.

'How are you doing?' He asks, voice serious.

Frank wiggles a little and moves his face, testing his injuries.

'I'm alright I think.' Danny looks at the bandage covering the stab wound. There's no blood and the skin around it looks normal.

'We should change the bandage to check on that.' Frank follows his eyes and nods.

After a few moments of silence, Danny turns toward the other again.

'Your phone is over there. I put it on the charger.' Frank frowns a little and he gets up to stand next to the outlet and checks his messages.

He sighs and sits down on the carpet and holds the phone up to his ear. Danny watches as his face changes into something that he wears when he's talking to his teenagers, even though they obviously can't see him now. It always starts out with an open expression, but also a little aloof before he adjusts it to the situation at hand.

'Yeah, it's me.' Frown. 'No, I'm fine. Are you okay?' Anger. 'The fuck Susie?! We brought you home. If I hadn't been there.' Susie interrupts him and Danny can see a nervous twitch in his eyebrow. 'A friend, not that it's any of your business.'

She seems to turn into a monologue and Danny brings Frank his half-empty mug. Their fingers brush and Danny smiles at him and motion to the bathroom before he leaves to take a shower.

When he climbs out he realizes that he hasn't brought any fresh clothes so he puts on his sweatpants and walks past the living room where Frank is ignoring the other person on the phone to stare at him as he walks past.

He puts on a fresh pair of underwear and clothes for the day. He also grabs a shirt for Frank, because he won't let him leave in bloodstained clothes.

In the living room, Frank is still sitting, leaning against the wall and sipping his coffee. His eyes roam over Danny as he enters and end on his face.

'I brought you a shirt. We should check the stitches first though.'

'Thanks.' Frank gets up, drags the chair a little further away from the table so Danny has some room and sits down.

Without any further words, Danny kneels down and peels the bandage off to check the wound. It looks pretty good, there is no redness to indicate inflammation and it's not bleeding anymore.

He dabs a piece of gauze that's soaked in disinfectant over the wound and puts a fresh bandage over the healing wound.

Danny throws the bandage and gauze into the plastic bag with the rest of the trash and hands Frank the shirt.

After he's dressed Frank gathers his things and Danny's jacket after looking between the varsity jacket and Danny and smiling a little.

'I gotta take care of this..' He makes a gesture with his hand towards his phone. '...mess.' He looks down at his naked feet. 'Can you drive me?'

The look of regret and unhappiness about it makes Danny smile slightly. Frank wants to stay here with  _him._

Danny puts on his own hoodie and the red varsity jacket before he follows Frank down the stairs.

He sees Mrs. Martin watching them through the window as they walk to his car and he waves at her with a smile.

Frank is grinning to himself in the passenger seat and puts on his own mixtape again.

This time the choice of music is better and Danny drives them to the street that crosses the one where Susie lives. They both get out of the car and Frank offers him a cigarette as they both wait for Susie to make an appearance.

They are on their second cigarette as Susie walks towards them. Even from the distance, Danny can see that she looks like shit.

Her eyebrows raise as she closes the distance at the sight of a man in Frank's jacket, Frank's beat-up face and them huddled together against the car. Usually Frank doesn't let people get close to him like that.

Frank notices her as well and is about to walk over.

'Wait a second' Danny opens the car door and hands him the cigarettes that are back in the glovebox. Giving back a little just seems fair and the sweet, albeit small smile he gets from Frank is absolutely worth it.

Usually, he doesn't give a fuck about others but keeps up appearances by being nice to everyone. He rarely means it though. With Frank it's different. Making him smile feels like a small victory, because seeing that frown melt into something sweet, just for Danny, feels good. And as mentioned, he sees no reason not to take things that make him feel good.

He never feels guilty for indulging himself, he just weighs his options for the ultimate high. Sometimes that's holding back. So he just gives a small smile back instead of shoving Frank against the car and kiss him filthily until he whines, like he wants to.

How he itches to make his claim in front of the girl, to show her what he can make Frank submit to. But he waits. Reaping the rewards later will make this victory all the better.

He can already taste it on his tongue, sweet like honey.

Frank makes eye contact just to shyly look away right again.

'Thank you.' He says through clenched teeth like it hurts to say it. 'For yesterday too.'

It's more than Danny expected and he just nods and walks around the car to the driver's side.

'You have my number.' Frank nods and turns around and walks over to Susie who is still watching them with a confused expression. Danny watches them walk down the street before he actually gets in his car and leaves.

It's been three days and Frank hasn't called or texted or written a fucking letter. Danny grits his teeth, everything is aggravating. He hasn't had more than 6 hours of sleep in the last three nights because his bed is too cold without Frank and he wonders if it's possible to form a habit within the short time frame of sleeping next to someone.

Alcohol is making him more aggressive instead of tired and he had nearly smashed his laptop as he had read an email his boss had sent him the day before.

He has paced around his living room, from door to window, around the table and back a hundred times without burning any of the restless energy.

He stops abruptly and makes a decision.

He's going to kill tonight.

It's the only way to make this endless buzzing in his skull stop and to soothe his singed nerves.

He'll probably be calm enough to get some sleep and not strangle Frank the next time he sees him.

It's starting to get dark outside as he gets his notebook and duffle bag from the car to take to the apartment to double-check that he has everything and knows Mary-Ann's schedule by heart.

He is too riled up to deal with any unpleasant surprises. The bag is meticulously packed as it always is and he puts it back in the trunk after he walks down the stairs in black combat boots and black clothes.

God, he needs this more than he needs air right now. Anticipation makes his hands tremble against the steering wheel as he parks relatively far away from the trailer park.

He picks up his bag and walks past the entrance of the trailer park that is basically just a driveway. When he comes up to the grove of woods he slips past the first few trees.

Luckily it's still too warm for the thin layer of snow to stay and show footprints or reflect light. The trees and the shroud of the night cover him perfectly and there is no way anyone will spot him from the trailers.

He walks through the trees until he comes up to the spot he has spent a lot of time at recently. Here he has a perfect view of the long trailer of Mary-Ann's. She's still at her crafts-group knitting a baby blue sweater for her unborn grandson, but she should arrive shortly.

Finally, the red Toyota pulls up and he can see the headlights turn off next to the trailer, illuminating the dead grass below before the blackness of the night takes over again.

The front of the trailer is and will be well illuminated all night by lamps all around the main path through the trailer park, houses in rows on each side.

Danny waits patiently while Mary-Ann makes dinner. He watches her sitting at her kitchen table eating some sort of stew and probably playing candy crush. She's at level 1241 already, at least the last time he checked she was.

Usually, he's so used to waiting and watching that he looks at his watch and three hours went by in the blink of an eye, but not today. Time feels like it's dragging, slow like molasses.

He checks his watch every two minutes and bounces his leg nervously.

While Mary-Ann is finally in the bathroom finishing her nightly routine he muses over a few scenarios of how he's going to do this.

He hates how he has to switch from his usual methods, but there's nothing to say against a nice strangulation. Maybe he can choke her out a few times without actually killing her and then finish her off.

His pulse is thrumming under his skin excitedly and he already feels a little high. Just a little more patience and he can get this show on the road.

He puts his gloves on and takes a few practiced breaths to calm himself.

Mary-Ann has turned off her lights half an hour ago. It's finally time.

The rush becomes tenfold as he puts on the jacket and finally the mask. He pulls the hood up, shoulders his bag and makes his way over to the dark trailer.

Opening the window to the living room is easy and he throws his bag on the thick carpet with a barely audible thud. He pulls himself up afterward and carefully closes the window.

He checks the kitchen and the bathroom before he sets his bag down in the small hallway and slowly pushes open the door.

He walks over to the bed silently, standing right next to Mary-Ann. She's already in deep sleep, her hearing aid is in a small container on the nightstand.

He lifts his gloved hand and brushes a few strands of her hair out of her face. His breathing is erratic behind the mask, sounds loud in his own ears.

The nervous energy ebbs away and becomes excitement as he lets his fingers brush down the side of her face, closing loosely around her throat.

Fuck, he's so gone already. She swallows against the slight pressure and it makes him shudder.

Mary-Ann is so frail he could probably break her neck with his hands. His hand twitches, but he holds out.

He can't feel her pulse through the leather gloves, but her breathing is calm and regular.

Before he has the chance to tighten his grip and wake her up to get to the best part he hears a noise. It's barely audible over his excited breaths and his erratic heartbeat in his ears, but he notices.

He inches away from her carefully, regretfully letting her neck go.

He listens for the sound and it's coming from either the bathroom or the kitchen. It's a persisting cracking sound like someone is breaking something with precision.

Like a window ledge.

In a matter of seconds, Danny goes through a whole array of emotions and in just as little time he slips back into the hall, picks up his bag and hides in the dark of the living room. It's the furthest down the hall and the sound definitely isn't coming from there.

He waits, with bated breath as the trailer is being broken into while a fucking serial killer is waiting inside. How on earth is it possible that both he and the robber have chosen the same shitty trailer?

Now that he thinks about it, this isn't too bad of a hit for a thief. Not a lot of security in the trailer park, but also one of the wealthiest trailer owners he has ever seen.

Mary-Ann isn't poor, which makes her choice of living situation all the more confusing.

Danny hasn't seen anyone staking out the place in all the time he has been here though, so the person isn't very careful it seems.

Well, they're in for a surprise. He grins behind the mask and flexes his fingers against the sheath on his upper thigh.

After what can only be minutes he hears someone pulling themselves up and landing on the linoleum of the kitchen with minimal noise. Danny walks closer to the entryway and hears some rummaging before the footsteps get muffled by the carpet in the hallway.

Sounds like they are walking towards the bedroom so he risks a glance. It looks to be a man clad in dark colors, but he can't say much more, because the hallway is probably the darkest part of the house right now.

The man enters the bedroom and Danny pulls out his knife and follows quietly. The dark hallway should provide him with enough cover to watch for a little while.

But before he can even get up to the door he hears a muffled scream and a struggle. He steps up to the door to see the man leaning over Mary-Ann, shielding her from Danny's view.

What happens next is probably the most surprising thing that has ever happened to him.

'Shut the fuck up bitch.' Growls the man inches from her face and judging by the muffled sniffling his hand is pressed over her mouth.

Danny recognizes the voice immediately and he can barely contain a shocked laugh at how fucked up this coincidence is.

It's Frank.

Obviously, he came prepared as well. The noise of duct tape being ripped off not unfamiliar and Mary-Ann is effectively shut up.

Frank huffs and gets up, searches through a backpack that is sitting next to the bed.

Danny can hear more sounds, Frank is probably tying her up. She isn't putting up much of a fight, very boring.

As he gets up to take a look at his handiwork Danny can see a glimpse of the mask he had seen a few days earlier for the first time.

Frank is also wearing latex gloves, smart boy.

Danny just stands as a silent observer as Frank starts to rummage through her drawers and her eyes follow him, big as plates. She's scared, but it's not the sheer terror that Danny so enjoys.

While Frank is looking at her jewelry box, Mary-Ann starts to look around the room frantically as if she can find an escape. She wiggles her arms to loosen her bonds and Danny has to say that Frank was a bit sloppy.

Frank upends the jewelry box on her dresser and picks up some of the more expensive pieces and just throws them into the backpack without care as he turns towards her again.

He's lucky she's too scared to actually fight him because the rope that Frank used is loose enough for her to get her hand out for sure.

Frank leans forward again, gets up in her face.

'I'll do the rest later.' His voice is eager, anticipation settles low in Danny's stomach. 'Let's not pretend I'm here for your shit.'

And with that, he pulls his knife from his pocket. Now Mary-Ann is getting scared for real with tears running into her hair and snot out of her nose. The full waterworks. A shiver runs down Danny's spine.

He takes a slow step forward and he can hear Frank nearly panting behind his mask as he holds the knife to Mary-Ann's throat. He clearly basks in her reactions as she whimpers and tries to talk through the duct tape.

The tip of the knife drags against her skin, drawing blood as Danny steps into the room and walks up behind Frank. He looks over his shoulder, careful not to touch him and Mary-Ann's eyes grow impossible bigger.

Frank's confusion about it is short-lived as Danny presses his Bowie knife just under Frank's jaw and himself against his back.

He goes dead still, processing what in the world could be going on. Danny leaves him suspended for a few more moments before he releases the hold of suspense.

'Frankie.' He whispers close to his ear. 'Fancy meeting you here.'

'Jed.' Frank laughs disbelievingly, still not moving for the knife pressed lovingly against his jugular.

'What are you up to, mh?' He moves the knife's edge down a little, feels the stubble against the sharp edge.

'Isn't it obvious?' Frank leans his head back, against his shoulder, away from the knife. His own hand is still holding his hunting knife but has fallen away from Mary-Ann during their interaction.

'Oh, I'm not sure.' He takes the knife down slowly as Frank melts further into his chest. 'Show me.'

He hears and feels Frank's breath hitch and steps away, sits down on the bed next to Mary-Ann.

Frank is looking at him in his full Ghostface getup and he is looking at Frank in his mask, knife held loosely between his fingers.

He can almost see the cogs turn in Frank's head as he is standing there frozen, trying to grasp the situation. Worst case scenario; Frank will attack him. But he gave a lot of trust here, his own knife still in hand but he's also half lying down, looking defenseless and clearly encouraging.

Frank seems to make a decision with a shrug sets his eyes back on the woman.

He turns to Mary-Ann and pats her on the head mockingly. Then he takes a zip tie from his pocket and lifts her hands. She starts to struggle against him and he presses her wrist together harshly, bone grinding together.

The sound of the zip tie closing evokes a nearly Pavlovian response from him and he turns his head towards Frank. This is all going a little too slow and he feels all penned up, needs to release that tension.

'Well if you don't want to, let me.' He allows his hand to close around the woman's throat again while looking at Frank. He squeezes harder and harder, not even looking at her as she gurgles and whimpers.

Frank seems to be fixated on his hand choking her while he fidgets in place. As she's close to passing out from lack of oxygen Danny loosens his hand and tips his head towards Frank.

'You want to..?' He gestures between Mary-Ann and Frank.

It's telling how eagerly Frank straddles her, knees on both sides of her hips and waits for her to regain some composure while she heaves air through her nose.

Danny leans back against the pillows, basically lying next to Mary-Ann and watches as Frank closes both hands around her throat.

It's hot as he watches Frank lean his weight into it and gasp behind his mask.

It gets hotter when Frank ruts against her and his fingers tightening while she makes desperate attempts to throw him off with her body.

' _Fuck_ . You into that?' Danny leans forward on his elbow, eager to hear every noise Frank makes.

'Shit.' His hips drag forward and he mewls. 'Yeah. I'm into it.'

Danny answers with a groan and gets back up, stands next to Frank and gently pries his hands off.

Mary-Ann has passed out and Frank is breathing like he just ran a mile. Danny glances down and Frank's still hard, hasn't come in his pants. Good.

'Come on.' He gives him a hand and pulls him off of her. Then he rips off the duct tape unceremoniously so she can breathe easier.

He turns back to Frank and suddenly he needs to see his face. Needs to see it in his eyes, that thing that attracts him like a moth to the flame.

He reaches up and waits for Frank to stop him, but he pushes the mask up without Frank moving at all. Seeing him through the dark eyes of his mask is not enough and to level the field he rips his mask off.

Leaning forward he takes in Frank's face and it's glorious. His eyes are dark, face flushed, lips red and he's looking at Danny the same way.

He knows what Frank sees: the sweaty hair, flushed cheeks, dilated pupils.

And then there is that thing in their eyes, bared from the excitement of a promised kill.

Their faces are inches apart and Frank looks at him as crazed as he feels.

'Let's finish this.' He leans into Frank's space, heated skin making contact as he presses against Frank's neck. He bites at the skin, licks over the mark, salty tang on his tongue and Frank's hands grasp for him as he groans from the pleasure-pain.

Then he steps back and pulls Frank's mask back over his face. After he puts his own mask back on he walks to get his bag from the living room.

They carry Mary-Ann over to the kitchen to tie her to one of the chairs. Danny makes her bed so it looks like she never got into it and takes her hearing aid so she'll hear what they are saying clearly.

When he comes back to the kitchen Frank has tied her to the chair effectively.

'She's still out cold.' Frank sounds like he's pouting.

'You were a little rough.' Danny muses and grins behind his mask. The show was worth the wait now.

He can see Frank flush down to his collarbones in embarrassment.

They both take one room and ransack it. This is how Frank has been hiding his murders, by making it a robbery gone wrong. It's too much hassle for Danny personally, but it seems to work well because as of now no one thinks it's a spree.

He hands Frank two wads of cash that were hidden behind some books in the living room and keeps two for himself. He doesn't say no to money.

By now his patience for waiting has run out and he gets lucky because they hear whimpering from the kitchen just as they stuff all the valuables into Frank's backpack.

They reenter the kitchen with their knives in hand and the time to play is over. Danny slowly walks around Mary-Ann as she's begging for her life. Frank is leaning against the small counter, watching him.

He lets all the excitement mount until it buzzes under his skin, he can feel it running through his veins as he drags the knife down between her breast, over her stomach.

He can hear his own breath becoming louder and he's pretty sure Frank can hear it too.

This is the best fucking part. He barely raises the knife, quickly clamps a hand over her mouth and stabs into her thigh. Feeling skin, fat and muscle give and the blood welling up quickly so beautifully dark is pure ecstasy.

'Again.' Frank's voice is rough over the rushing in his ears and the muffled screams under his hand.

He rips the knife back out, blood spatters against the linoleum and the nightgown before he stabs again a few inches higher on her thigh. The feeling just adds to the excitement he already feels, the beast being satisfied inside his rib cage.

Frank comes over with his knife clutched tightly in his hand. His breathing is as erratic as it had been when he choked her earlier, just as excited as Danny is. His knife sinks into the other thigh slowly and Danny can see the serrated edge rip at the skin before it's flooded in blood.

Again he withdraws his knife violently and the blood hits Frank who gasps and sways a little.

'Come here.' Danny pulls at him before he can even move to stand caged in by Danny, behind the delirious woman. Her whimpers are growing quieter with the blood loss.

Danny closes their hands over his knife's handle, grasping Frank's hand tightly so they are both holding the knife. He draws the knife over the thigh where Frank's knife is still buried deep and pushes in slowly. Frank lifts his other hand, pushes down on the hilt and they feel the blade catching on bone, vibrating through their arms.

Danny is breathing heavily, watching the wounds bleed, the nightgown soaked in blood already.

Frank's hand is shaking under his and Danny can hear him groan lowly as they pull the knife back slowly.

He draws their arms upward, stabs into the lower stomach, edge pointing upwards and pulls, slowly gutting her vertically.

Frank shudders against him, his other hand holding himself upright against the chair as his knees almost give out from the pleasure. There's a gush of blood over the chair, onto the floor and Danny moans at the feeling of his sleeve getting soaked in warm blood rapidly.

As the knife almost gets stuck in her breastbone he pulls it out viciously and lets it clatter to the ground.

Bloody gloves grab Frank's sides painfully as he grinds his hard erection against his ass.

Frank moans and moves back against him, other hand grasping the chair on the other side, next to Mary-Ann's hanging head.

'Want you to fuck me.' Frank groans, completely delirious. What a blessing that Frank gets off on this as well.

'Can't. Not here. Gotta come like this baby.' He puts one arm around Frank's waist and pulls him back a little, his shoes squeaking on the bloody floor.

His other hand palms Franks dick through the pants as he ruts against his ass. He shouldn't feel good through all the clothes they are wearing, but he's so fucking close to coming already that it doesn't really matter.

'Fuck fuck 'm so close.' Frank is shamelessly grinding against Danny's erection, moaning.

Danny lets go of him for a second, turns them around and just lifts Frank up and sits him on the table. He pulls him close so he can continue to grind against him and he grabs at Frank's throat with his bloody hand. His sleeve leaves a wet imprint of blood on Franks shirt, making them both shudder.

His fingers tighten around Frank's throat and he hears the wheezing breaths before he cut's his air off completely.

Frank moves his hips against him and Danny swears he can feel him twitch. His head tips back and it's enough to make him lose his mind.

'Fuck baby.' He groans. 'Look at you.' He can tell Frank's almost there. 'All covered in blood. So pretty.'

Frank whimpers at the words and his fingers dig into Danny's back painfully as his hips stutter and he comes.

Danny manages to get that perfect angle right after and it sends him so so close to the edge, his hands go back to Frank's hips and he leans over him, covers him with his body.

The table protests under their combined weight as Danny pushes Franks legs around his waist so he can grind against his ass.

'Yeah babe, that's it.' His brows furrow under the mask and Frank groans. 'Fuck, gonna cum.' He feels the high of his orgasm run hotly down his spine while Frank lazily grinds against him to help ride it out to the fullest. He feels so fucking good, it's like the best high.

He knew this would be the best thing to share. And Frank has taken part in this beautifully. They are covered in blood, Mary-Ann doesn't look like a robbery gone wrong anymore. Shit, they gutted her. His dick twitches and Frank snorts under him.

And they had just done  _that_ next to a body. 

He pushes up slowly, feeling tacky all over. He holds a hand out for Frank who takes it. After he helps him down from the table he takes in the scene.

He went a little overboard there.

The pool of blood is huge, smudged bloody footprints where they had dry humped on the table and next to the chair. Half of Mary-Ann's innards hanging out and piling on the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again. Next week I will probably post early.
> 
> Thank you for the comments and Kudos! I'm glad you're enjoying this. 
> 
> Love you ♥

Frank looks and looks and then starts laughing softly. 'Well shit. What do we do now?'

Danny scratches his neck through the cowl.

'Looks more like a cartel hit.' Danny muses and walks over to the kitchen cabinets. He gets a rag from a bucket under the sink and throws it right onto their shoe prints. He starts wiping over them with his foot on the cloth.

He throws a pristine tea towel over to Frank who's standing at the kitchen door.

'Wipe the soles of your shoes off.' Frank does without questioning it. He's also wearing boots, not his usual white sneakers. Then he walks into the hallway while Danny muddles the rest of the footprints and gets into the hall a moment later.

Frank is squatting next to his backpack and finally produces a few bags with white powder.

Danny looks at him while he stuffs them in one of the vents and leaves that suspiciously badly closed, but not too obviously.

Danny takes a last thorough look at the rooms before he returns to Frank who's waiting for him in front of the kitchen. He holds up the camera he just got from his bag and points at Mary-Ann.

'Wanna make a souvenir?' He can practically see Frank's grin as he struts over and leans over Mary-Ann's shoulder. He's careful not to step into any blood.

'Make me look good.' He says and Danny takes a picture that he will cherish for the rest of his days.

They drive back with their bloody clothing stuffed in plastic bags in the backseat. No one saw them leave and the body will probably be discovered in two days at the most.

Depending on Mary-Ann's daughter.

Frank looks happy, bobbing his head to another mixtape he had in his backpack.

It's so late again that Mrs. Martin won't notice them as they quietly enter the house. Danny throws their bloody clothes in the washing machine right away and follows Frank up the stairs.

The apartment is freezing cold and he shivers from the cold and the tiredness that is just settling in his bones after the initial euphoria of the kill ebbs.

Frank still looks pretty giddy though, bouncing on his feet as Danny slowly unlaces his boots.

'What are we gonna do now?' He asks, not able to contain himself any longer.

'Take a bath.' Danny gets up and starts filling the bathtub before he gets some clothes from the bedroom. When he comes back Frank is sitting on the toilet cover completely naked.

There's dried blood all over his chest and it looks like he dipped his arm in a bucket of blood, save for the hand that is spotless.

Danny grins and ogles Frank, who is utterly unashamed and nearly preens under his gaze.

He kneels next to him on the plush bath rug and wets a washcloth in the tub.

He cleans all the blood away carefully, but efficiently.

Then he takes off his own clothes and grimaces how the fabric sticks to his skin. Frank watches him openly and it's the first time they have seen each other undressed.

Frank looks good. Most of his body is covered in tattoos and he looks athletic. Danny isn't in his very best form, to be honest, but he still has some muscles to him and he still can see his sixpack and the V of his hips. He just needs to eat more and regularly.

He shrugs it off. As long as he can still heave bodies around he's good. The blood washes off relatively easily with the washcloth as he leans over the sink.

He climbs into the tub and looks at Frank who's still sitting down.

'What are you waiting for?' He wets his hand and runs it through his hair so it's not falling into his eyes constantly.

'I thought we would go after one another. Looks pretty small.' Frank eyes the small space critically.

'I'm too tired for this shit. Get in or don't.' He stretches his legs and leans his head against the cold tiles, enjoys the scalding heat of the water.

After a few seconds, Frank steps next to his feet and he draws them to himself so Frank has room to sit.

'Fuck why is it so hot?' Frank complains and sits down slowly. Danny watches him through half-lidded eyes. His skin is turning pink and his face is flushed from the steam, he really looks good whatever he does.

'I like it that way.' His answer is delayed but Frank just sighs and rearranges their legs so they can sit more or less comfortably.

The bandage over Frank's wound is gone and it looks like he pulled the stitches himself.

They sit in silence for a blessed while before it is rudely interrupted.

Frank tries to start another round of complaints and Danny shuts him up.

'I thought you'd be more fun after.' Frank grumbles and kicks dangerously close to Danny's balls.

He grabs Frank's ankle and glares at him.

'I haven't slept in three days. I'm fucking tired.' Which is exactly why he needs Frank to be tired too so he will come to bed with him, so Danny can sleep.

He rubs his thumb over the bone of Frank's ankle and looks at him through his lashes.

'Come here.' He says gently and makes Frank sit in front of him with his back leaned against Danny's chest. It's something Danny could get used to, the weight anchoring him.

Too tired to do anything rushed he pulls the plug and washes Frank's hair. The noises he makes, tiny sighs and groans make low arousal pool in his stomach, but he ignores it.

It's clear how much Frank enjoys this, just being touched.

He leans into his fingers, sighs when his hand caresses his neck and shoulder and when all the suds are washed away and he pulls Frank back into his chest, he leans again him.

Frank's head lies against his shoulder and he turns it to hide against his neck while Danny just holds him for a moment. They sit in the low water for a while, just like that, without saying a word.

He softly nudges Frank to get up and points to a towel, before he quickly washes his own hair and lathers himself up before he washes everything off and gets out of the tub as well.

He puts on his sweatpants while Frank still waits for him, already dressed in dark gray pajama pants.

Frank follows Danny to the bedroom like a puppy, close on his heels. They both stop in front of the bed and Danny sits down on the edge and peers at Frank who looks like the hot bath and cuddling have tired him out.

There's always a low after all the adrenaline stops coursing through your body. It just took a little longer for Frank it seems.

Danny crawls up on the bed and under the covers. As Frank turns off the light he's bathed in darkness, features barely discernible. He standing there, not like a man, but like a child after a nightmare, at the foot of the bed. Danny watches him silently as he wrings his hands, waiting to be let under the covers; as if he's not allowed the comfort.

Danny is too tired to feel sad or angry, so he just lifts the comforter and waits for Frank to slowly make his way to the side of the bed, still uncertain.

By now Frank is shivering without a shirt and in his thin pants, or maybe it's just the vulnerability that he probably hasn't let anyone see in a long time.

'Come here.' Danny's voice is just a whisper into the dark room and Frank moves and slips under the covers; buries his face in Danny's chest. His fingers are trembling against Danny's warm skin and he's shaking.

If he's crying he isn't making a single sound and Danny just holds him until they eventually fall asleep.

Danny wakes when it's still dark out. Despite his magical powers of making him sleep, Frank doesn't hold the power of the impossible full night's sleep.

It's just after five and Frank hasn't moved from his embrace, just slotted his thigh between Danny's. There's still a lot to do before there is no evidence of them having been at the crime scene. It all needs to be done, just in case.

As he tries to untangle himself and get up Frank whines a little and paws at him with sleep weak hands. Even in sleep, his brows are furrowed, discontent to let him go.

Danny gets up, puts on two sweatshirts and the knitted socks again while his whole body is telling him that his place is next to Frank, under the warm covers.

Even though it's a rough start, he feels rested enough as he scrubs their shoes with bleach and restarts the washing machine for a second time, just to be sure.

He cleans their knives carefully and decides to sharpen his later, maybe he'll do Franks too.

The heater rumbles as it starts up at six and he can hear Mrs. Martin turn on the small radio in her kitchen.

The film from his camera is put away safely in a film can and with his other trophies. He'll develop it when he finds the time.

After the most pressing things are done he goes back to the bedroom and as if he can sense it Frank opens his eyes a little and mumbles something that he can't understand.

As he lies back down next to Frank, he immediately latches back onto him, shoves his hands under his sweaters to touch his skin. It makes him shiver as he presses his face against the column of his throat, hot breath washes over his skin.

It's a form of intimacy that feels foreign to him. He doesn't see any benefit to letting anybody close to him. To be fair, he had once thought about getting himself a wife just for show and as an alibi but concluded that she would be demanding things and he would have to be “home” a lot.

The effort would outweigh the benefit, so it's a clear no for him.

This however isn't something he thought he could enjoy. His fingertips wander over Frank's spine and he hums contently. Frank doesn't even know the depth of depravity that he is cuddled up to at the moment.

Danny's mind is a dark abyss and he knows he doesn't just love Frank from the pureness of his heart. What he feels is possessive and dangerous, others might call it obsession rather than love, but there is no difference for him.

He wants to pry Frank apart, look at all the little parts that make up his mind. He needs to be his, no matter the consequences.

Frank  _will_ love him.

He inches away so he can look at the face that appears so peaceful in his sleep. The scar above his eye is stark white, a small rift through his eyebrow. He touches it, smooths over the dark brow, feels the dip where the wound cut deep a long time ago.

Frank's lashes fan out darkly over his cheeks and his lips are slightly open and pink. Even the dark circles under his eyes are inviting and Danny just can't stop looking at him, it'll never be enough.

He traces the other scar through Frank's upper lip, a mirror to the almost healed split in his lower lip. On purpose he lets his nail catch on the scab, it's not enough to reopen the wound.

The bruises have faded to sickly yellows and greens, but it's hard to see them in the low first light of the day.

His fingers dip under the blanket again, trace down over Frank's ribs, to the injury Danny stitched up. His fingers trace over the closed wound and he wants to dig his nails in, rip it open and feel it bleed over his fingers.

The memory of Mary-Ann's warm blood on his skin is still fresh in his mind and quells the desire to harm the one living being he cherishes.

He traces the shapes of animals and skulls and the rose just above the waistband. When there is time he will have to look at every piece of art that is on Frank's skin. Some are really badly done with wonky lines and patchy colors. Others look like they have been done yesterday with vibrant reds and blues in black lines.

He just notices now that Frank has his nipples pierced, but the black simple jewelry is barely visible against the ink. He thumps the left nipple carefully and pushes the metal bar to the right.

The barbell of his own piercing clinks against his teeth as he wonders if this feels better for Frank than it does without the piercings.

He pushes Frank onto his back, who grumbles but doesn't really wake up and Danny kisses over his neck. It's heady, his head swimming again as he finds a speck of dried blood and scrapes his teeth over it. Frank is shifting, breathing changing with him slowly waking up.

Danny can't see if he opens his eyes, he's still licking that spot with a faint taste of iron on his tongue. He sucks and bites to see how the skin will look all bruised from sharp teeth through the ink.

Frank tips his chin up, giving Danny more room to do as he pleases. His hand moves over ribs and a half-healed long cut to still at Frank's hip as he pushes up to loom over him.

The skin over Frank's sternum feels thin against his teeth like the bones are just there under paper-thin skin. Frank shifts against the painful treatment, forces a sharp canine into his skin and it makes Danny's blood run hot as he sucks another dark bruise into his skin.

'More.' Frank groans, nails digging into the skin of Danny's nape, scratching without holding back.

Frank shifts against his body weight and Danny makes his way lower and lower. The pants are riding low on his hips, erection against his cheek as he teases Frank by mouthing over his hipbones.

He wants to make him suffer even longer as Frank gets up on his elbows to look at him.

They make eye contact and Danny grins but falters at the dark hungry look in Frank's eyes.

'Common. Suck it.' Frank shifts his weight to one arm and his fingers tighten in Danny's hair, pulling his head back painfully.

Danny moans and grins, defiant just to make Frank's fingers tighten even more.

This is better than he anticipated and it's easier than he thought it would be to bow to Frank's will just a little and hook his fingers in the waistband.

The dark look in his eyes and the pain makes him shift his hips against the mattress for relief and Frank grins back at him.

He pulls down the pajama pants and gets his first look at Frank's dick. The sight makes him hungry and he leans forward, licks a broad stroke from root to tip.

'Mh. That's it.' Frank exhales a sigh and his fingers relax just to shove his thump in Danny's mouth and pry it open. The pad moves over his teeth and Danny just looks up at him.

Frank's eyebrows raise at the tongue piercing presumably and he pets Danny like a fucking dog, then shoves his head down again.

'You little shit.' Danny seethes and licks the first trickle of precum from the tip. Frank just chuckles with his sleep rough voice and he relents, opens his mouth.

Then his phone rings on the nightstand.

Danny closes his eyes, tries to count to 5 before he takes it from Frank's outstretched hand.

'Hello?' He answers chipper in his Jed-voice.

'Mr. Olsen?' An unknown voice answers.

'Yes. Speaking.'

In his mind, he's already packing all his shit and fleeing, already making up a speech to convince Frank to come with him. Or just knock him out and take him. Whatever it takes.

'Ah hello! This is Liam Wilson from the Ormond Post.' Danny exhales a breath he didn't notice he held and relaxes his shoulders. He leans forward a little and mouths at the base of Frank's erection.

'I heard you were in town?' The man questions and Danny hums affirmatively against hot skin. 'I actually wanted to call last week as I heard you're new here. We could use a good journalist.'

Danny doubts it, nothing worthwhile to report here other than him really.

'Anyway, let me stop rambling.' Danny rubs a finger over the hard dick just under the tip where Frank has to be really sensitive because he shudders and moans quietly. 'I googled your resume and I have to say I'm impressed. We had a murder, brutal.' As he pauses to collect himself Danny crawls up on the bed to let Frank listen as well. He's pouting a little as he's taking himself in hand, stroking lazily.

'Oh, how awful.' He makes it sound like he's really sorry.

'Yes, can you believe it?! Here in Ormond! We need someone to report the crime and I must say I don't think my team is ready for this.' Frank is grinning down at him, eyes alight with glee as he spits in his hand quietly.

'What I'm offering is a commission for this. I'll pay you of course. You'd just have to start on it right away.' Danny knows he'll say yes of course, but there's no harm in making the guy sweat a little.

'I'll have to increase the fee for something at such short notice.' Danny does his best to make his voice sound like he's somewhere between ashamed and sorry, which he isn't at all.

'Of course Mr. Olsen.' He clears his throat. 'I would have to ask you to get to the crime scene immediately, so you won't miss the removal of the body. I'll email you the address and details of what I have from my police informants.' Danny sighs in regret and glances at Frank, his own body still wound tight and begging for attention.

'I'll be on my way right away Mr. Wilson.' Danny says pleasantly. 'You'll have your article in the evening.' A sigh of relief comes from the other end.

'Thank you, Mr. Olsen.' Danny hangs up and sits on the edge of the bed. There's movement behind him and Frank is pressing against his back. One hand sneaks around his waist and squeezes his erection through the sweatpants. Teeth are scraping over the red welts on his neck and Danny can't help but groan and push his hips up.

'Fuck.' He shudders as Frank strokes him and presses his own erection against his back. 'You have to stop or I won't be able to leave.' He can feel how fucking wet Frank's dick is against his naked skin where his shirt is pushed up.

Danny gets up abruptly and surprises Frank, who falls back on the bed. The mattress dips as Danny kneels next to Frank's thighs and grinds them together, making them both moan.

'I really.. mh.. can't keep going.' He can't stop and Frank looks so so  _good_ like this, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded and dark, dick twitching against his. He leans down, places a kiss on the edge of his jaw. 'Wanna fuck you so bad.' Frank whines a little in response and jerks his hips. 

Danny gets up swiftly and looks over his shoulder, smiles slyly. 'Or have you fuck me.' Frank throws his arm over his eyes.

'Shut up or I'll come just like this.' He groans and there's a small puddle of precum where he's leaking on his stomach. Danny's mouth waters and he gets up and gets dressed before he actually fucks Frank instead of investigating his own crime.

Danny doesn't need the address to Mary-Ann's trailer. He could probably find his way blindfolded. And he's still so distracted from the image of Frank glaring at him as he had left him on his bed flushed and aroused, that he nearly walks to his hiding spot in the trees after he parks his car.

The scene he arrives at is something that's almost the same every time. Police are bustling around, neighbors are whispering and trying to get a glimpse inside the trailer. Danny walks up to the policeman that looks most likely to lead this investigation.

'Good morning.' He picks a solemn tone of voice. 'I'm Jed Olsen. I was just commissioned by Mr. Wilson from the Ormond Post.' The policeman nods as he holds up an old journalist's pass.

'Yes, he called me a few minutes ago.' He looks tired and defeated. There is no chance he's going to solve this and he knows it already. 'They will remove the body shortly, then you can get a look inside.'

Danny is a little perplexed. That's really shabby police work. Letting someone walk all over the crime scene is obviously good for him, but really bad for police. He can just say any DNA at the scene is there because he was allowed to look around, any of Frank's is probably from his boyfriend who stayed over the night before.

When he sees that the coroner (if he even is one) isn't even wearing a protective suit the whole thought gets discarded. There will be no collecting of fibers or DNA, maybe fingerprints but that seems to be the extent of it.

He snaps a few pictures with his digital camera of the coroner's sullen look as he and his assistant carry the body bag to a stretcher and into a van. The crying pregnant woman sitting on the steps of the ambulance also makes a good picture as well. It's Mary-Ann's daughter.

He waits for another 15 minutes before the policeman from before leads him into the trailer.

'I heard you have some experience with things like this.' He looks a little pale at the prospect of walking into the kitchen. 'But I have to warn you. It's pretty gruesome.'

Danny wants to shrug, cause it's not that bad. He's done worse.

'I'll keep that in mind.' He makes a brave face and the man nods.

The sight of the kitchen in daylight makes him take a sharp breath, not because it's gruesome, but because it's beautiful. There's more blood splatter than he remembers. It's on the kitchen cabinets, the drawings her grandson made that are stuck to the fridge with colorful magnets and even on the ceiling.

The puddle of blood is half dried by now, blood coagulated and getting darker. They have removed the body without much care for it, linoleum an ugly brownish color where the legs of the chair were dragged through.

Their footprints are still obviously there, but no one will be able to tell that it was more than one person or what kind of shoe.

Danny waits until the policeman, who rudely hasn't introduced himself, can't stand lingering in the kitchen anymore and leaves to get fresh air outside.

He takes a few pictures with his analog camera, maybe he'll show them to Frank later if he's nice. The sight of their footprints in front of the kitchen table and behind the chair is making him unable to stop the memories from last night come up again.

The warm blood soaking through their clothes as he was chasing his high. Frank begging him to fuck him, the crazed look in his eyes and the frantic movement of his hips as he choked Mary-Ann.

He bites his tongue as he notices his fast breathing and that he's half-hard again.

With closed eyes, he takes a few deep breaths, takes in the smell of copper from all the blood.

A glance at his crotch confirms that the dark fabric is hiding his arousal well enough and he walks back out, joins the people behind the barrier.

He nods to the police chief with a thankful, albeit shaky smile.

This whole ordeal is turning out to be much better than he ever could have anticipated as he had crossed the border.

After he questions Mary-Ann's daughter with a sad voice she's able to answer some questions before she breaks down again and he leaves her with his business card clutched in trembling hands.

At his apartment, Frank has obviously left and it makes him feel a pinch of disappointment, even though he knows that Frank doesn't mean anything bad by it. He's not a sycophant like people who want him for who knows what.

Frank knows his real face and still isn't afraid to just leave and do whatever he wants.

That's good. Frank should want him for who he is not because he's scared, and Danny likes that he is his strong-minded, if a bit crude.

Danny writes his article, by now something that isn't all that difficult anymore. A few clever words, deep sympathy, and well-versed questions to keep the reader interested.

He asks Mrs. Martin if he can use the old closet upstairs as a darkroom and she agrees. He develops the film he used this morning and also the one from the night before.

The pictures have turned out very good.

Frank looks stunning in the half-light next to Mary-Ann's corpse, splattered in blood. His knife hanging loosely in his right hand and head tilted as if he is looking right at you through the picture. It's perfect.

He downloads the digital pictures and edits one that's the best combination between sad and sensational, people eat that shit up.

After he puts everything together he can't help but admire his own work, he truly has an eye for this. Mr. Wilson will be happy with this, no question. He sends it via mail and writes the bill right after, increases his prices slightly.

He deserves it for the blue balls the guy gave him with this.

After everything is done for the day and it's late evening already he glances at his phone. Again nothing from Frank and his patience is just about to run out.

He was going to suck his dick after all, the least he could do was ask when they were going to continue this and not completely ignore him again.

Frank had seemed pretty desperate this morning and Danny knows he's good. Just he hadn't really had the chance to show Frank yet, had he?

It's his fucking fault that Danny had walked around half of the day with a hard-on.

Having enough of being cast aside like an old toy Danny goes to put warmer clothes on and notices that Frank has stolen his hoodie. He imagines him in it. It probably hangs down to mid-thigh, as it's already too big for Danny and he's the taller one.

Maybe Frank will still wear it when he surprises him.

He puts on the red jacket he dearly missed all day he was outside and freezing his ass off.

He parks the car at the end of the street more out of habit than anything else.

The house is almost completely dark. Clive is probably out drinking, but the lights in Frank's room are on.

He breaks in through the backdoor and confirms that Clive isn't home with a look into the living room. It looks like Frank cleaned up a little though. There are no empty cans or bottles lying around.  _Curious._

Danny walks up the stairs silently, avoiding the creaking third step from the top, and makes his way down the hallway.

He stops in front of Frank's half-open door, out of the field of view.

There are voices coming from the room, Frank has company. Danny grinds his teeth and narrows his eyes. That's definitely Julie's voice he hears.

He steps forward so he can look inside. They are sitting on the couch, Julie is almost on Franks lap and leaned towards him giggling like a cheap whore.

Pure rage bubbles up at the sight of her batting her lashes and Frank actually laughing. He can barely understand what they are talking about, so focused on the body language.

He clenches his fingers, knuckles white, eyes narrowed. His fingers twitch against the switchblade that is still in his pocket. Tiny hands wander up Frank's arms to his shoulders.

Frank is  _his_ and if she doesn't keep her dirty hands off of him he can't guarantee he won't slit her throat so deep he just has to crack her spine to sever the head. 

He wants to crush her ribs under his boots so she slowly suffocates on her own blood.

He wants to pull her teeth one by one so the blood dripping from her mouth will dye the white shirt she's wearing red.

His vision feels like it should be tinging in red as she leans forward in slow motion, slips into Frank's lap to straddle him and starts to kiss him.

Something Danny has yet to do and he can't stand to see her take this from him.

If he was normal maybe he would have left now or stood there and start to cry or something, he doesn't really know what a normal person would do in this situation.

But he loses all grip he has on his control, cold fury overtaking him and he can feel the beast clawing its way to the surface as he opens the door and walks into the room. The switchblade is cutting into his hand with how hard he is gripping it.

He comes to stand behind Julie, who has her back to him. Frank's eyes grow huge as he sees him almost immediately.

Now Danny notices that he isn't kissing back, which stops him from ramming the blade into Julie's neck for the moment. They look each other in the eyes and whatever he looks like right now is something that he doesn't let himself become often.

He rarely, very rarely, loses control like that and with how unhinged and close to completely losing it he feels it must show on his face.

Frank is staring at him, pupils dilating visibly in front of his eyes. He sees the danger and is obviously turned on by it as he moans into Julie's mouth.

Danny needs to have him right now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again. An early present for you guys! 
> 
> Merry Christmas ♥

He grabs Julie by the scruff of her neck instead of her hair by pure coincidence. She shrieks in panic as she's pulled from Frank's lap and the couch and lands on her ass on the floor.

He lets her go and stares down at her, no patience for her stammering.

'Who the fuck are you?!' She screeches and Danny pulls her up and bodily drags her to the door on her heels.

'Frank!' She looks at Frank, who is still looking at Danny with wide eyes. 'What the fuck is going on?!' Danny turns around, picks up her bag and throws it into the hallway, not giving a fuck that half the contents spill over the dirty carpet.

'Leave.' He says coldly and shoves her out the door, where she stumbles into the wall and he closes and locks the door behind her.

'You are the guy Susie was talking about!' She is scratching at the door, banging her fists against it.

Danny doesn't care, barely aware of it as he turns around and closes the distance between Frank and him.

'Fuck this! Fuck you, Frank!' She stomps down the hallway spitting curses.

Green eyes are still staring as Danny leans over him. No one is going to take this from him now.

Roughly he grabs Frank by the neck and pulls him towards him while he leans down.

Their lips meet feverishly, hungry. Frank tastes like strawberry lip gloss. Almost immediately Danny bites down hard enough to draw blood, licks it up like he's starving for it.

There will be nothing gentle about this, he just can't help himself anymore.

Frank whines and licks into his mouth, pulls him down. The fingers on Frank's jaw tighten painfully as Danny leans down, bites over the bruises he had made earlier along his throat.

'I almost killed her.' He whispers against the hot skin.

'I know.' Frank submits and sinks back down. 'I know. I saw.' His fingers scramble over the switchblade still clutched in Danny's hand.

'Are you going to kill me?' He gasps out, bucking his hips.

'I don't know yet.' He grabs the hoodie and shoves it up Frank's chest with everything else he's wearing underneath and flicks open the knife. Frank's breath is coming in erratic pants as he slowly lowers the knife to his chest and presses the cold blade against his skin.

Slowly the blade cuts into his skin shallowly and Frank gasps out a choked moan. He throws his head back and groans, fingers trembling against Danny's knees.

The blood wells up and Danny leans down, presses his tongue against it. It makes Frank writhe under him, almost throwing him off as he bucks.

The couch is too narrow for this, but Danny relents for a few more moments and presses the blade into Frank's skin again just below his rips.

Frank is moaning without pause, making noises between whimpers and groans against his hand that is pressed to his mouth. His eyes are wide and staring at Danny who is lapping up the blood and grins up at him with blood-stained teeth.

'Jed.  _Fuck Jed._ ' He moans and tries to get a hand down to touch himself through his pants. Danny stops him and gets up on his hunches.

'My name is Danny.' He looks down at Frank who is looking desperate, thin ring of green around blown pupils.

'Danny.' He whispers, almost reverent and it throws Danny off a little.

Then Frank's eyes dart to the bed and back to Danny. It makes him chuckle and he gets up and holds out a hand for Frank.

On the way he takes off the jacket and both sweaters he's wearing, cold air feeling nice on his naked skin for once. They stand close to each other and Danny pulls the hoodie and shirt over Frank's head, swipes two fingers over the sluggishly bleeding cuts.

His hands wander over the revealed skin and shove Frank to the bed. He glares up at him and Danny grins, climbs over him again.

His fingers leave bloodstains on the white sheets as he leans down, licks over Frank's nipple, the metal of their piercings clinking together.

Frank is still squirming and a hand runs through Danny's hair, pushes him down to the fresh cut.

He laughs, but obliges and runs his tongue over the cut, it has almost stopped bleeding and he kisses the skin underneath. He laps up the smeared blood around the wound.

He feels himself back down from the dangerous edge enough that he doesn't have to worry about actually snapping and hurting Frank.

Sharp fingernails are biting at his scalp as Frank pants, ravenous for more. Danny wonders what has him so pent up, can't avoid his thoughts turning to Julie in his lap for a second and he lifts his head.

He watches Frank calculatingly, but his eyes aren't leaving Danny, jumping from his face to his chest to his tented pants, as if he's afraid Danny is going to get up and leave.

He lets his hands run down Frank's sides after he sits back on his knees. Fingers toying with the belt buckle of Frank's ripped jeans.

'How much do you want it?' His fingers brush over the fly of Frank's pants. The sharp intake of breath and his hips twitching towards his hand are almost answer enough, but Danny wants to hear him say it.

'Fuck. So much.' As a little reward, Danny opens the first button, fingers sliding into the waistband of his boxers. The shiver that runs through Frank's body is enough for him to swiftly open the pants the rest of the way, lift his hips and roughly pull his pants down enough to let his fingers wander over the hot flesh through the thin fabric of his boxers.

'So wet already.' This whole time Danny has barely paid any attention to his own desire, way too eager to see Frank's reactions to the things he does. Now that he pulls Frank's boxers down and dips his finger in the precum and it stays connected to his skin in a thin thread makes him suddenly aware of how painfully hard he is, how fast his heart is racing.

'm not wet. It's not a pussy.' Frank grunts, despite moaning as Danny touches him.

'Looks wet to me.' Danny lifts his finger and licks it clean, Frank's eyes following the movement of his tongue. He laps at his middle finger too and swings one leg over so he can rearrange Frank, takes the rest of his clothes off so he can sit between his bend legs.

He grips Frank's erection loosely, stroking him in a way that he knows is more aggravating than satisfying. He bucks his hips and groans in frustration.

'Fuck Je... _Danny_ . Please I'm so close.' He whines as Danny continues lightly jerking him off. 

'Tell you what.' He offers. 'I'll make you come and then I can take what I want.' Frank nods frantically, not even knowing what he's agreeing to, because like this Danny can still hold back.

He doesn't want to hurt Frank, not make him regret this whole thing, but he knows once he starts he can't stop.

'Let me hear it.' He demands, voice a little sharper than intended.

'Yeah you can do whatever you want, just make me come.' Danny grins all sharp teeth and no mercy and tightens his grip. Now that he has permission he'll take as much from this as he can.

'You've waited for this all day mh.' He slowly moves a little faster, still drawing it out. He wants to keep Frank on edge, hear him moan more like he's going to cry with his eyes clenched shut.

'Was hard all day thinking about this.' His hips move against Frank's ass, only making him more uncomfortable in his pants. 'Couldn't stop thinking about you all desperate on my bed, in my clothes touching yourself.'

'Yeah.' He thrusts into Danny's tight grip. 'Me too.'

Frank is not nearly as talkative as Danny, which is just fine, he has more than enough to say.

He lets his other hand run over one of the fresh cuts, presses in so more blood seeps from the wound, a small rivulet towards Franks back.

It's pretty obvious that Frank gets off on it as much as he is from Danny's hand around his dick.

'Common baby. Let me see it.'

He presses a little harder on the wound and it splits back open, warm blood on his fingertips. Frank's fingers dig into Danny's thighs and he groans, a gravelly sound with his voice rough. He can feel his dick twitch, strokes him through as Frank comes all over himself, up to his neck. It looks nice on the dark ink.

Danny takes his hand away and licks it clean slowly, dark eyes on his every movement.

'Such a mess.' He's still grinning as he leans forward and starts lapping up the cum from his chest.

Frank is moaning softly, running hands through Danny's hair.

If he thinks Danny is going easy on him now, he's mistaken. Losing patience halfway through Danny pushes himself up and grabs Frank by the hips and flips him over.

He actually squeaks in surprise and Danny has to laugh and give him a hard slap on the ass.

'Now it's my turn.' He says darkly and roughly squeezes his ass. 'I've waited for this since the first time I saw you.' He leans forward and bites at Frank's shoulder, his mouth still tastes like cum.

The body under him is pliant and still. His hands close around Frank's waist, just like he did when Frank was sleeping in his bed and it has the same effect on him.

Right now he's only concentrating on himself and Frank is solely passive after his orgasm, but Danny will get him worked up again in no time.

He pulls his dick out of his sweatpants and underwear, jerks himself off for a moment just for the relief. The tip presses against Frank's ass and he's close to fucking him just like this, but he's not that kind of an asshole.

He wants Frank to beg for his dick.

In the drawer, it's the same mess as it was the first time he looked at it. He sets Frank's knife and mask on the nightstand and digs for the half empty bottle of lube.

It lands next to his thigh and he thinks for a moment. He can rush this and get his dick wet or he can make Frank beg and cry and  _then_ get his dick wet. 

The thought of Frank tightening up around him while he comes again makes the decision for him.

Shit, this is making him excited, he licks his lips and scoots backward a little, leans forward without alerting the other to what he's doing.

Frank has gone into a relaxed mode, head resting on his arm as Danny grabs his ass and pulls him up a little, buries his face in his ass and brushes his tongue against hot skin.

'Fuck! What' Frank is scrambling forward, trying to escape him, but his iron grasp holds him in place to keep him right where he wants him.

Frank mewls and supports his own weight on his knees as he continues. Danny hums, lets his spit run down, doesn't care what a mess he's making. Frank's choked off moans every time he pushes inside a little are making his head spin.

Fuck he wants more of this.

Fingers dig into Frank's ass as he really gets into it, forgets his own urgency for a little and makes Frank gasp and sob, back arched and thighs shaking.

'Knew you'd like that.' He murmurs into his skin. 'Knew you'd taste so good Frank.' He rubs his ass, spanks him harshly.

Frank is hard and leaking against the sheets again, but Danny doesn't touch.

He notices that he's rutting into the blanket without any conscious input and he sits up before he comes on accident. He still needs to get to the main event here.

The cap of the lube is fucking nasty, dried up liquid sticky against his skin as he squeezes a generous amount on his fingers. The room fills with the artificial scent of apples. H

e rubs over Franks pink hole, all pliant and wet with his spit.

The sight of his finger sinking in and Frank pushing back against it make his dick twitch.

His urgency is now back in full focus and he prepares Frank a little hastily, but he doesn't complain even when three of Danny's fingers are squeezed tightly by wet heat and he would assume that it stings.

He pulls his fingers out and positions himself behind Frank, one hand on his hip, the other guiding his erection to rub over the stretched hole. He groans, pushes in a little and pulls out again. After doing it a few times Frank tries to push back to get him inside, but he pulls away every time.

Frank whines like the little brat he is and presents his ass beautifully.

'Beg for it.' His voice is rough and deep, he doesn't sound like himself. 'Tell me how much you want me to fuck you, Frankie.'

'Oh please. Fuck me. Need it right now.' The words spill freely in his needy state.

'Since you asked so nicely.' And he pushes in with one rough thrust, making Frank choke on his spit. It must hurt, but Frank's insides are squeezing around him deliciously.

'Fuck you're big.' Frank groans and falls forward to his face before Danny has even moved an inch. It strokes his ego in the best way possible.

'Move please.' Frank sounds breathless and Danny leans over, turns his head so he can look at his face. His eyebrows are drawn together in pain and Danny pulls out a little, thrusts back in and despite the obvious expression of pain Frank gasps and moans.

'Shit yes. More.' He urges. 'Harder. Fuck.' His knuckles are white in the sheets as Danny starts to fuck into him in earnest, not yet chasing his own orgasm, but working towards it.

It's hard not to with Frank's praises of how good it hurts and how full he feels. Danny groans, tight grip on Frank and it's so hot and slippery, feels like he's burning up.

Sweat is running down his neck despite the cold room and Frank is becoming incoherent, not saying words anymore, moans and words a jumbled mess.

He leans over Frank, pushes him into an uncomfortable position to lick over his sweat-slick skin.

'Want to feel you come on my cock.' He says right next to Frank's ear and he nods jerkily in response. He gets back up to get one hand around Frank and jerk him off in time with his thrusts.

Frank's hoarse moans reach fever pitch and he's shaking. Danny feels him tensing up, his dick being squeezed almost painfully as Frank comes over his fingers, slumping forward again as he strokes him through.

He lifts his hand again, two fingers in his mouth, the other holding Frank up as he chases his own orgasm with hard frantic thrusts.

'I'm gonna come so hard.' He groans as the taste of Frank's cum and green apple spreads on his tongue, brings him right to the edge.

He feels that tingling heat spread down his spine as he comes, pushes in to the hilt and grinds as deep as he can to ride out his orgasm. He nearly blacks out, field of view becoming smaller and smaller before it returns to normal.

Frank is moaning happily, pressing his ass against him and a delirious grin on his face.

'Fuck, you're a cumslut.' Danny snorts and leans on both arms over Frank, kisses his temple. 'Should have seen that coming.'

Frank just shrugs nonchalantly and relaxes into the dirty damp sheets.

He pulls out and winces a little, then falls to the side. Frank sits up carefully, scrunches his face and Danny hides a smile by looking down.

'I'm never going to walk again.' He sighs dramatically and wipes himself off with some tissues from the drawer. Danny takes one as well and cleans himself off as good as will get with a dry tissue.

Frank puts his boxers and sweatpants on and grabs the hoodie from the floor. He gingerly sits on the couch and this time Danny can't help but snicker while he gets dressed himself.

'Fuck you.' Frank mutters without any real heat. 'Next time I'm fucking you.'

Danny lets himself fall down next to him and shrugs.

'Sure. Think you can me make me come just on your dick?' He muses and Frank leans in and kisses him slowly. His tongue drags over Danny's lower lip, bites gently before he pulls back, looks at him through half-lidded eyes. 'For sure.'

He takes two cigarettes from the coffee table and hands one to Danny.

'Confident.' Danny lights his cigarette with a pink lighter, which must belong to Julie. 'We'll see.'

He lies down and rests his head on Frank's thigh. He watches him through his lashes as he takes a measured drag and then looks down at him.

'If I ever see her touching you like that again, I'm not going to hold back.' He says quietly, the threat clear to both of them and he sees that defiance in Frank's face before he takes another drag of his cigarette and it melts away.

'You won't.' Is all he says and lets his free hand caress through Danny's hair soothingly.

They smoke and watch a rerun of six feet under on the shitty TV until they hear Clive come home and they sneak out and drive back to Danny's apartment.

They drink and smoke until the early morning hours, the TV just background noise to them talking about Ormond and Florida and everything in between.

They sleep clinging to each other, limbs tangled and with the heater running.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're at the end already. I hope you enjoyed my work and this last chapter. 
> 
> I have a few oneshots in the same universe in mind. I'm not quite done with my boys yet.
> 
> Happy New Year everyone!

The next morning Danny drives Frank home to change before work. There's no awkwardness between them as he parks the car, this time right behind Frank's truck on the small driveway. He turns the car off and the radio dies with it and they sit in silence.

Frank turns to him and smiles cheekily and climbs out of the car. He looks back at Danny just before he opens the front door and blows him a kiss, sarcastic grin just growing further. Then he vanishes inside the dark house.

A few days go by with Frank texting him once in a while and Danny finishes his article and writes a follow-up on the murder in the trailer park.

There are even fewer people outside in the dark than before the murder, but he knows it will ebb and soon people forget what happened. It still feels good that he instilled that fear.

But caution can only last so long.

The Ormond Post send him his money to the account that he just opened with his fake ID and driver's license in Jed's name. He starts to make a name for himself as the nice American in Ormond.

He visits the coffee shop to have a coffee and breakfast almost every morning and happily chats with Louise, the owner.

Sometimes he watches Frank when he meets his friends before school. It really works like clockwork, so he gets a little worried when Frank doesn't appear one morning.

He's not very predictable, but he hasn't missed this a single time since Danny started watching him. Even his teenagers seem worried, looking up and down the parking lot and arguing before they vanish into the school building with worried faces.

Danny sits there, nervously drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. It's not like Frank to just not show up and clearly he hasn't told anyone that he wouldn't come by.

The unease will not let up until he checks on Frank so he starts the car and drives to the house.

Clive's car isn't in the driveway but Frank's truck is there. Danny doesn't even try to ring the doorbell but lets himself in through the backdoor as usual.

The inside of the house is quiet and no one is in the kitchen or the living room as he walks by. He notes that Clive has managed to accumulate a large number of empty bottles and cans around the sofa again. It smells like a bar, stale beer and cold smoke and he shudders a little.

He quietly makes his way through the hallway upstairs and stops at Frank's closed door. It creaks a little as he opens it and lets his gaze wander over the room.

The mountain of blankets suggests that Frank is lying in bed. It's not very late yet, but still not the usual for him to sleep in like that. Even when he had slept in Danny's bed he had always woken up relatively early.

Danny walks closer and sees Frank's head sticking out of the blankets. The thought of him maybe being sick, which wouldn't be a surprise in the cold room Frank spends his time in, vanishes quickly as Frank turns slowly to look at him.

He has a black eye and fresh bruising on his cheekbone. His eyes are blinking up at Danny sluggishly as if he just woke up and his eyebrows draw together.

'Danny?' He murmurs, as if he's not sure he's really there.

'Yeah. It's me.' Danny looks at him questioningly. 'What happened?'

Frank's eyebrows draw together as he wakes up more and more, pain written over his features as he shifts under the blankets.

'None of your business.' He bites out and avoids Danny's eyes. 'I've had worse.'

Frank is being especially evasive this time and it doesn't take a genius to conclude that he either got in a fight again or this is what Danny suspected for a longer time now.

The living room looked especially bad and a drunk Clive is an aggressive Clive.

'Alright. Give me your hand.' Frank looks at him confused but moves and a hand appears from under the covers. Danny takes it and notices that there are no abrasions on his knuckles.  _No fight then._

He turns it and Frank tries to pull his hand back, but Danny doesn't let him and turns it to look at his palm.

For the first time, he looks at it up close and it's worse than he imagined. There are cigarette burns, older and newer, most of them healed. But there are two fresh ones just in the middle of his palm.

'I see.' He grinds out and doesn't notice how tight he is gripping Frank's wrist until he hisses and pries at Danny's white-knuckled fingers. He relaxes his hand and feels a little bad that he probably just added more bruises to Frank's light skin.

For a time he had thought that Frank did something to himself, but combined with the fresh bruises it doesn't even matter who burned his hands because the trigger for this was obviously Clive. Actively abusing his ward.

_Kill him._

Killing Clive would draw more suspicion to Frank than it would do good, even in Danny's self-centered brain. Maybe just before they leave he can take some time to torture Clive for days, show him what happens when you touch something that doesn't belong to him.

He turns Frank's hand again and kisses the back of it with a sigh, trying to bury his anger for now. Frank pulls his hand back and looks at him.

'Stop with this gay bullshit.' He grunts out, but the corners of his lips are still pulled into a pleased smile. Then he sits up a little and the blankets fall down to his lap and he yawns.

'What are you doing here anyway?' He picks up his phone from the nightstand and checks the time.

He's playing off what happened to him and Danny lets him, for now.

'You didn't show up at the school this morning.' Danny straightens and looks around the room.

'Are you watching me?' Frank is still tapping, probably texting his friends.

'Never.' He answers dryly and opens the drawer of the nightstand and digs for the pills. With the bottle in hand, he walks over to the bathroom, fills the small cup on the sink with tap water and returns to Frank's side.

Danny hands him a pill and the cup and Frank swallows the painkiller gladly. It's nothing that will knock him out, but probably make the pain bearable.

Frank pushes the blankets off and he's still wearing jeans and Danny's hoodie. He didn't change his clothes before bed.

The dark circles under his eyes are more prominent again and his skin looks a little too pale.

'When did you eat last?' It's not like he's a good role model, but at least he forces himself to eat something twice a day. He knows it's not possible, but it looks like Frank's skin is more taught over his cheekbones and his jaw.

'Yesterday.' He follows Frank's eyes to the coffee table, where a single 'Compliments' granola bar wrapper lies. With a turn of his head, he looks back at him and raises his eyebrows.

'Let's get some breakfast.' Frank groans and rubs his face. He moves slowly to get out of bed and carefully shuffles to the bathroom.

He turns towards the door as he hears Frank coming down the hall after fifteen minutes. Frank is wearing his hoodie and it ends just at mid-thigh.

Danny walks towards him, like a moth to the flame and looks him in the eyes. His skin is flush from hot water and he's looking up at Danny with a half-smile.

It looks like the shower and the pills are making him move a little easier and Danny leans against the door frame. Frank gets dressed in black jeans and puts on socks and stuffs his things into the black backpack before he turns towards Danny and they leave the glum of the house into the crisp winter air.

Louise's smile falters as she sees Frank entering the coffee shop next to Danny.

Is there anyone in this town who is on Frank's side?

Frank just sneers back and slumps down at the table Danny indicates. His glare only softens when Danny hands him a cup and a plate with hash browns, eggs, bacon and some fruits on the side.

After he gets his own plate he sits down and watches Frank devour his meal in record time.

He's greedily watching Danny's full plate.

'Here.' He scoops his bacon and a bit of the potatoes and eggs over to Frank's empty plate.

Still Frank has cleaned off his plate again before Danny is finished with his, but he leans back and sips on his coffee happily.

He hears someone coming up behind them and Frank's scowl tells him it's probably Louise. He sends a warning look at Frank and morphs his face into a too-sweet smile.

Frank's eyes grow for a second and Danny just turns around to look at the cafe owner.

'Everything alright here, dear?' She asks and smiles at Danny sweetly.

'Oh, yes! Of course. Thank you, Louise.' His fake smile grows impossibly larger. 'It's perfect as always.'

'Oh, you're too nice Mr. Olsen.' She just waves him off and laughs.

With a last sour look at Frank, she walks off, graciously enough to not pry into their business any longer.

Danny considers her as a potential victim for a few seconds, but he has built such good rapport with her already and destroying all that work would be a waste.

Frank eyes him with intent as his fake smile melts away. They don't say anything for a few minutes, just drinking their coffee and Danny thinks about something that has been bothering him for a while now.

While they spend some time together and obviously have seen each other's true faces, they haven't talked about any of it. Frank doesn't ask and Danny isn't even sure if he knows who he is, or what the world calls him.

It's not like Danny needs to talk about it, but that Frank hasn't even mentioned it a single time is nagging at the back of his mind. In hindsight, it seems that Frank just ignores everything that could become something unpleasant. He hadn't asked about the phone call, hadn't mentioned the murder they committed together or the fact that Danny clearly knows his way around his room.

He pays for their food at the front and does some more small talk before he meets Frank at the door and they make their way out. He leads Frank back to the car and drives out of Ormond, just parks at the side of a road in nowhere, where Frank can't flee.

He puts the car in park and turns towards Frank. It's time they talk.

Frank is subtly looking out the windows, out to the empty fields. Then his eyes nervously dart around the car, flicking back to Danny every few seconds. There is no escape route, it's a matter of who runs faster.

'What are we doing here?' He asks, voice unwavering and eyes narrowed.

'Are you scared?' Danny ignores the question and grins wolfishly.

Frank scoffs and crosses his arms, but still watches him from the corner of his eyes.

He pats Frank's tense arm and leans back into his seat and Frank relaxes a fraction in turn.

'I just wanna talk.' He can see him tense right back up.

It's not a matter of Frank wanting to talk, but Danny needs to know where he stands and how he's going to move forward.

'Relax Frank. This is not therapy.' He sighs and leans his head back, just turns a little to look at him.

It's probably going to be easier to ease into it with himself.

This is not going to be easy for him either, because when does he ever have to explain his thoughts or himself?

'When I first saw you, I wanted to kill you.' Frank's breath hitches and he finally makes eye contact. 'I could just tell you were special.' He can't help the little smile at the memory. 'And then I saw it in your eyes, Frank. I knew you were like me.'

And he searches for it again on his face, as does Frank and while Danny barely sees that coldness right now Frank gasps under his breath like he's seeing it for the first time.

'And then that night. The look in your eyes after you choked her.' Frank's cheeks flush at the memory, rosy color mixing with the purple bruise. 'You were so beautiful, I knew I had to keep you.' He doesn't break the eye contact with Frank's wide eyes and slow pleased smile. He obviously likes the praise.

'But you know I can never let you go now. You can't betray me and if you try to run or tell anyone about me I will have to kill you, no matter how much it hurts.' He runs his fingertips down the side of Frank's face that is growing furious.

'I can do whatever I want. I'm not yours.' He spits out and turns his head to shake Danny's hand from his face. In the blink of an eye, Danny is leaning over the center console with his hand around Frank's throat, squeezing. He leans in, closer to the other's face.

'You'll always have the choice, Frank. Live or die, but both include me.' He kisses Frank softly and flinches back when he bites him, blood running down his chin. He grins with bloodstained teeth.

'You let me in Frank and you don't even know who I am.' He loosens his hand and rubs him thump over Franks pulse point, licks over the wound on his lip.

'I know you'll fight me at every point and I'm not trying to control you.' He leans against his seat and takes his hand back.

'Yeah. Sure.' Frank laughs dryly.

'You don't believe me?' Wary eyes look at him.

'Who are you then?' Danny's lips twitch and he sends Frank an amused glance.

'You could have found out easily. I'm a serial killer Frank.'

'No shit.' His tone is sarcastic, but Danny ignores it.

'They call me Ghostface. I killed 22 people.' And where every other person would recoil, maybe run, Frank looks impressed, almost in awe.

'Letting you go after you knew who I was under the mask was an immense show of trust.' He tries to get back on track, but Frank seems to need a moment.

'I only killed three.' He whispers and nervously taps his fingers against his thigh.

'What do you want from me?' He looks at Danny earnestly.

'I want your company. I want to see what you can become.' A car passes them on the road and their eyes follow it until it's gone.

'Are you going to stay by my side?' He's surprised again when Frank lays a hand just above his knee and squeezes his thigh after a minute of silence.

'As I said, I'd do anything to get out of this shithole.' He's beautiful when he smiles.

Even though he's pretty sure Frank wouldn't appreciate it he has started to watch Frank again. Not because he thinks he'll tell anyone, because to be honest, he still have the upper hand with being friendly Jed with everyone, while Frank is hated by the whole community for no real reason.

If he were to tell anyone who Danny is they probably would believe him over Frank, but doubt is not the reason he sitting in his car, just off the road up to Mount Ormond Resort.

Frank and his little gang of unruly teens are up there, probably up to no good and Danny's teeth are aching from the thought of Frank up there with Julie. It's very hard for him to suppress the jealousy and the fact that Frank had said he wouldn't  _see_ him fooling around with Julie anymore isn't easing his nerves at all. He can't see him now, so what good is that promise. 

To distract himself from the intrusive thoughts he thinks back to the heated kiss in his car before he dropped Frank off at home that morning. His nails lightly scratching Danny's neck and the shiver he feels thinking about it is almost as good as it had been then.

He tries to find a radio station with a decent signal and music that doesn't want to make him smash the radio. It's starting to get dark and it can't be long before they finally make their way down the mountain to go home.

As if on queue a truck rumbles down the steep road and past the small parking area for hikers Danny is standing in. He pulls into the road as the truck's lights are just small dots in the half-light of early winter dusk.

Frank drives his friends home and as he pulls up on the driveway it's already dark out.

He gets out of his car with a slight smile on his face while Danny watches. He sits in the shadows while he waits for the lights to come on in Frank's room.

But they don't.

Frank's room stays dark and Danny glances at his phone. It's been at least 10 minutes since he entered the house.

He gets out of the car and walks up to the house and there is no change on the upper floor. The bathroom and Frank's room stay dark and Danny begins to worry. This is exactly why he followed Frank again.

There is blue light filtering through a small gap in the living room curtains, but Danny can't see the room, just a small sliver of the carpet.

He walks around the house and pries open the backdoor with a few wiggles and a knee against the hinge. As he quietly opens the door he can hear the muffled voice of Clive and dull noise.

Slowly he creeps towards the noises in the living room. He peers around the corner and through the open door and what he sees makes his blood run cold.

Frank is lying on the floor, arms shielding his face as Clive kicks him in the ribs.

'You're a no-good no one wants. you have no friends, your own family didn't want you.' He mocks and takes a break, just resting his fake leather shoe on Frank's side, rolls him over to his back.

'Think I didn't see you with your disgusting boyfriend?' There's another kick into Frank's stomach and a muffled grunt. 'You really think he likes you?! That anyone could ever love you?' Clive's laugh sounds raspy and ends in a cough that distracts him from the body on the floor.

Danny debates intervening, but just then Frank gets up and pulls his knife from his waistband. He doesn't attack right away, leaning heavily on his left leg, body slightly hunched over.

Clive recovers and even looks surprised that Frank got up. Danny can imagine from the lack of defensive wounds last time that he's used to Frank just taking the beatings.

Then he spots the weapon in Frank's hand and a snarl shows his yellow teeth.

'You dare to pull a knife on me boy?! After all I have done for you. Wait until the chief Sollows hears about this.' He takes a threatening step towards Frank who doesn't step back, just stands there, staring with cold eyes.

'I let you live under my roof for years and you disrespect me constantly.' He takes a swing at Frank, but is too drunk and stumbles to the left.

'I never wanted you and no one ever will.' With that he steps forward again, swings his fist and Frank steps forward as well, knife held tightly in his hand and stabs him in the side at the same time Clive's fist connects with his jaw.

Frank is fast despite his injuries and gets two more stabs in before Clive lands another blow and he sinks to his knees, unable to hold his weight any longer.

Clive lifts his leg to kick him all the way to the ground, but this is where Danny makes the decision to step in. He had let Frank have his chance, but now he won't ignore this problem in an alcoholics body any longer. It's not like they can let Clive go now that he has stabbed him anyway.

Frank is looking at him, defeat in his eyes and it fuels Danny's anger like gasoline on a flame.

Clive is big, but Danny is furious.

He steps between Clive and Frank and pushes him back, causes the older man to stumble back drunkenly. His first hit connects with Clive's nose and the crunching sound of breaking bone is more than satisfying.

Blood gushes from his nose into his gaping mouth and he coughs.

'Hi.' The face Danny makes can't be called a smile, it's more of a baring of teeth. 'I'm the disgusting boyfriend.'

His next hit connects with Clive's cheekbone and his head is thrown back with a pained groan. He stumbles further back, knocks a few empty cans from the coffee table.

Danny glances back at Frank who is trying to catch his breath behind aching ribs. Their eyes meet and there's a glint back to his eyes.

Clive is slowly regaining his balance, now looking a little more defensive, but just like every other victim he hasn't grasped yet that Danny doesn't go for injuries, he aims to kill.

He easily dodges Clive's pathetic attempt to hit him by taking a small step back. That he's absolutely sloshed makes it almost to easy to kick him in the shin so he falls to his knees with a heavy thud.

Danny looks down at his blood streaked face with disgust. Bloodshot eyes stare back at him as he tries to get back up.

'You pathetic piece of shit actually think you can just touch what's  _mine_ .' He sneers and aims a hard kick against his knee. Clive howls in pain and doubles over. 

He steps on Clive's hand, hears the bone break and hums happily, repeats it just to make Clive sob out.

He turns towards Frank, crouches down next to him and lifts his chin. Clive should be too absorbed in his pain to hear him whisper.

'You know I can't let him live.' He turns Frank's head to check for injuries, but it's just the almost healed black eye. He wants to explain further that breaking a man's nose and fingers can be explained and finding a valid reason for the stabbing will be difficult, but before he can even start Frank whispers back.

'I don't want you to.' He turns his head to the side and presses a soft kiss in Danny's palm. 'Kill him.'

Maybe this is what true love feels like.

He gets up with a fond smile and turns around. Clive is cradling his hand to his chests and gulps in breaths through his mouth, his nose is too swollen. He steps around Clive and looks over at Frank.

'Do you want to see it?' He asks with a hand on Clive's shoulder digging in painfully. Frank just nods, anger in his eyes and Danny takes a grip on Clive's wispy hair. He pulls his head up, makes him look at Frank and leans closer to his ear.

'Want to say goodbye?' Clive whimpers and sadly Danny can't see the terror in his eyes, but this isn't for him, this is for Frank and he can see it perfectly clear in the flickering light of the television.

He pulls his head back a little further, then brings it down with as much force as he can, against the edge of the coffee table.

It's a dull thud and Clive struggles against his hold, not unconscious yet. He does it again, repeats it again and again until he hears the skull crack and there's blood running down the leg of the table and pooling around a few cans. Brain is splattered against the carpet and his legs.

Clive is limp in his hold and he presses his fingers against his pulse.

He's dead.

He lets go of his hair and Clive's head cracks against the edge of the table, lands on the carpet with his neck at a weird angle. He kicks his side a last time for good measure before he walks over to Frank and holds his hand out and pulls him upright.

'You alright?' He looks at him, the blue light making the circles under his eyes that much darker.

'Yeah.' His eyes wander to where Clive's body lies. 'I'm good.' There's a tired smile on his face.

'Can you breathe okay?' Danny eyes his chest warily, he had seen those kicks.

'Yes. Nothing is broken. I know how it feels.' Frank's hand lands on his shoulder and he helps him over to the ratty couch to sit down.

He sits down next to him and they look at the silent TV for a minute before Frank speaks up.

'Thank you.' He says and doesn't look at Danny.

'If we're going to be together it's one of the things you can expect me to do. Protect you when you need it.' Frank's warm hand grasps his, squeezing his fingers too tight.

'You're serious. You want me to come with you.' Frank sounds hopeful and Danny wonders if he didn't believe him the first time. He turns to look at his face.

'I'm serious.' Frank's eyes shy away, look at their hands. 'Look at me.' He has Frank's attention. ' _Really_ look.' 

Danny takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and just lets what he feels show on his face. He tries his hardest not to manipulate his features or say something to sway Frank.

Then he opens his eyes. But his face isn't showing love, his eyes reflecting the want to possess and to own. There's infatuation, but also something that should scare Frank just a little.

Danny looks a little crazed, a man obsessed and Frank's fingers tighten even more around his.

'See?' His eyes don't leave Frank's face, taking in every detail and expression.

Green eyes grow dark and a slow smile grows on Frank's face as he accepts Danny's words.

After everything Danny gets a green tarp from the basement, rolls Clive's heavy body in it and puts him in Frank's truck. He cleans the table with bleach and soaks the carpet in it. Then he stuffs his pants into a trash bag and borrows one of Frank's sweatpants.

He collects the bloodstained cans and rinses them off before he stuffs them in the neighbor's trash under some bags. With it, he breaks Clive's sim card and throws his phone in there as well, for good measure.

After he comes back in, Frank is sprawled on the couch in the living room that smells like bleach and he has seemingly not moved an inch since Danny started cleaning up.

'Want me to help you upstairs?'

Frank thinks for a second.

'No.' He pushes up and stands carefully. 'What are you doing now?' He looks around the room, at the bleached stains on the dirty carpet.

'Gotta get rid of the body. I was going to ask if you knew somewhere he won't be found for as long as possible.' Frank smiles.

'I know just the place.'

He drives the truck up the mountain under Frank's instructions from the passenger seat. Frank is pressing a bag of frozen peas to his ribs under the jacket and flinches every time the truck shakes from the uneven road.

'This is quite a hassle. I don't usually do this.' Danny sighs and carefully follows the road in a sharp left turn.

'Me neither. Just once.' Danny makes a questioning noise. 'I'll tell you when we're up there.'

'Aren't you mysterious?' He says with a slight smile.

They drive past the half-rotten lodge and down a service road until Frank stops him about a mile in and nods.

'We're here.' He points in a direction, but there's nothing special. It's all just trees.

'Where...?' Danny looks at him like he's unsure if he should trust him with this, but ultimately shrugs and opens the door. He heaves Clive's wrapped body out of the truckbed and stands next to it until Frank walks over and motions him to follow. It's hard pulling the heavy tarp through the trees and snow, but soon enough Frank stops him.

They are standing at a steep slope and Danny holds on to a tree and leans over.

'You want to throw him down there?' He looks around, but all he can see in the distance are trees.

'I threw the janitor down there. They never found him.' His teeth glint in the darkness as he grins.

'Are you sure no one's going to find him there come spring?' Frank actually laughs.

'No one's  _ever_ going to find him.' And he leans against a tree and waits for Danny to heave the body over, roll him out of the tarp and down the slope. 

After the sounds of breaking twigs and crunching snow have stopped Frank turns around and walks back to the truck without looking back. Danny checks one last time, picks up the tarp and follows.

Frank drags himself to work the next morning and Danny writes an article about the single bakery in town that celebrates its 25 th anniversary that week. 

He gets a free croissant and a decent coffee from the cute guy behind the counter so he doesn't complain.

Mr. Wilson is happy with the encouragement for a visit for the special “anniversary-buns” and the overall positive attitude and even agrees to pay his increased fee again.

Frank calls him early the next morning as he is reading his article in the local paper.

'Morning Frank. What's up?' Frank doesn't call just for fun.

'Clive's work keeps calling on the landline.' He sounds like he just woke up. 'I told them I didn't know where he was and that I haven't seen him in two days.' Danny just hums and sips his coffee.

'How are your ribs?' He can hear Frank draw an exasperated breath.

'Fine. Better.' Danny grins, he likes annoying him. 'What are we going to do about this? The cops are going to show up soon.'

'Yes.' He glances around the room, tries to estimate how long it will take to pack his things up. 'We have to leave.'

The whole time he has spend in Ormond he obviously tried to keep on top of the manhunt for Ghostface and as far as he can tell they haven't gotten any closer. By now his nerves have settled a little with the calm of the small city and the paranoia these days has been minimal.

He has found a taste for these smaller communities though and to be fair he'll need more quiet time with Frank. To teach him how to pick someone, how to prepare and to stay under the radar of police. He also just wants to get to know Frank better.

Maybe they can drive east, look for another quiet place.

'You still there?' Frank yawns and despite his urgent tone, he doesn't sound too worried.

'Yes, sorry. Pack your things, we're leaving around noon. I'll pick you up.' Frank hums and mutters something before he hangs up.

Danny chugs his coffee, packs his few things and drives up to the newspapers office to get his paycheck in person. Mr. Wilson seems genuinely sad that he's leaving and says that he's welcome back at any time.

Then he goes to the bank and exchanges the check for cash.

While he sits at the mechanic and waits for his car to be checked over for the trip he googles some routes and smaller communities, apartments and houses.

Just before noon, he says goodbye to Mrs. Martin and she hugs him surprisingly strong for such a frail woman. Then she shuffles into her living room and hands him a dark red knitted sweater.

'It was supposed to be a Christmas present, so you'll just take it with you now.' She pats his cheek and he loads his bags into the trunk and drives over to Frank's place.

When he arrives Frank is standing there with a duffle bag at his feet and his friends surrounding him. Danny parks at the curb and gets out of the car.

Everyone is looking at him as he walks up, Julie has an especially sour look on her face.

'Hey, Jed.' Frank smiles and picks up his bag.

'You ready to leave?' He takes Frank's bag from his hands as he nods.

'Alright.' He walks back to his sedan and throws Frank's bag into the backseat. Then he leans against the car and rips open the new pack of Lucky's he bought.

Julie's hands are clasped around Frank's and it sends a surge of anger through him, but he just watches as they lean forward, foreheads touching.

'Are you sure I can't come with?' Julie pleads and Frank steps back, withdraws his hands and smiles sadly.

'No, sorry Jules.' He turns towards Susie who is chewing on her lower lip, barely able to look at Frank and Joey who is smiling a little.

'Alright, guys. You'll hear from me.' With that, he hugs Susie who starts crying as he lets her go and turns to Joey.

He pulls him into a tight hug and stares at Danny with warning eyes over Frank's shoulder. Danny just smiles a little Jed-smile and leans against the car.

There is nothing to worry about. As long as Frank stays loyal to him, Danny will protect him from everything that wants to hurt them.

Frank turns with determination on his face, walks to the car and slumps down in the passenger seat. Danny lifts a hand and lazily waves at the three teenagers, then gets in the driver's seat and starts the car.

He sees Frank stick his tongue out and show them the middle finger as they drive off.

Frank digs through his backpack at his feet and pulls out a tape with a skull that looks suspiciously like Danny's mask and the word 'killer' written across. He shoves it in the cassette deck and presses play.

Danny glances at him and Frank is already half turned towards him.

The midday sun is making his eyes lighter than usual, like light filtered through green leaves in the summer and it's breathtaking.

A lazy, content grin spreads on his face, making him look mischievous.

'Get me the fuck out of here, Danny.'

As Danny leaves the last of the city in his rearview mirror 'Lonely Boy' starts playing and he's smiling.


End file.
